


As Children After Play

by judo_lin



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Abuse, Angst, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 50
Words: 318,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judo_lin/pseuds/judo_lin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice has a vision that the new girl at Forks High will change the Cullens' lives.  But Rosalie's sharp eyes catch evidence of abuse on Bella Swan, and she vows to find out just what's going on with the quiet girl.  Eventually she and Edward hatch a plan to keep Bella safe, which might endanger the close-knit ties of the Cullen family.  Possessive Edward and Big Sister Rosalie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of rape, but no depictions.

_Then I saw the morning sky:_  
 _Heigho, the tale was all a lie;_  
 _The world, it was the old world yet,_  
 _I was I, my things were wet,_  
 _And nothing now remained to do_  
 _But begin the game anew. - A.E. Housman, 1896_

Two and a half weeks.

Two and a half weeks it had been since the new girl started at Forks High School, and Alice was about ready to rip her own hair out in frustration as she paced her family's kitchen, trying to get a glimpse of her. Even before she moved, Alice had seen future visions of the small, delicate girl with the big dark eyes Edward was destined to fall in love with. But now, now that she was actually in town, Alice wasn't able to see her at all. Every time she tried, all she got was a hazy, swirling darkness. It didn't make any sense. When people were merely indecisive she was able to see a plethora of possible futures, so it couldn't just be that Isabella Swan was flighty. No, this was something different, and it made Alice want to scream. Never before had her attempts to part the veil of time been so utterly thwarted.

"Still trying?" Esme asked, her voice sympathetic, as she came into the room and dropped an absently-mothering kiss on the top of Alice's black head. "You're going to give yourself a headache."

"We can't feel the effects of alcohol or anything else fun," Alice said, knowing she was pouting but not inclined to care at the moment. "Yet we still get headaches. Whoever thought up real-life vampires had a sick sense of humor."

Esme chuckled as she watered the plants on the windowsill, then turned to her adopted daughter. "Very true." She cocked her head to the side, her smile gentle and commiserating. "Feel like talking about it?"

"I don't think there's anything new to talk about," Alice replied, throwing her hands up as she resumed her pacing. A flash of sun caught the facet of a lacquered nail when her fingers moved, and she was distracted enough to study the ruddy polish. It was about time for either a touchup or a new color. Maybe tonight she'd be able to talk Rosalie into helping. Even though their vampire bodies were preternaturally still, they did a better job painting each other's nails than their own. Alice couldn't explain it; it made no sense. But there it was, and all the female vampires she'd ever met admitted it.

She pulled her attention reluctantly back to the subject at hand, which wasn't nail polish. "I can't get a read on the girl at all. That's not normal. I'm starting to worry."

"About her, or about your ability?"

Alice winced. "Both, probably. Is it that obvious?"

"No need to be embarrassed." Esme smiled again. "It's just who you are. You're used to having this upper hand that you don't have right now. Of course you're worried." She crossed to the seldom-used dining table and sat, motioning Alice toward another chair. "Tell me what you know about her."

"Nothing, I told you! I can't see anything." Alice threw her little self into the chair, and it creaked alarmingly. She sent a grimace of apology Esme's way, but the older woman waved it away.

"No, not like that, honey." Esme smiled fondly. "You have other senses besides your premonition. I don't go to school with you, remember? What else have you noticed about her?"

"Oh." Alice thought hard, trying to figure out what Esme might like to hear. It was so difficult, sometimes, to read people without the help of her gift. She wondered how Edward would ever manage, if he ran into someone whose thoughts he couldn't read. She snickered a little to herself in amusement. It would be quite amusing if that ever happened. "She's really pretty - sweet, you know? Not all shiny like Rose or smooth like you...she's got something else about her."

"What does she look like?"

"Long dark hair, big dark eyes. Little - but she's still taller than me." Alice grimaced inwardly. Practically everyone was taller than her. "Her voice is low - not rough or gravelly like a smoker's but...nice. Not really girly." She thought for a minute. "Not that anyone would know it. She hardly talks."

"Maybe it's hard for her, being in a new town and everything. Give her some time."

"See, but that's just it," Alice said. "This isn't a new town for her. Her dad's the chief of police, and she's been spending summers here since she was a kid. The only thing that's new is the school."

"That's still a big change," Esme said. "Give her some time, yeah?" She gazed out the window at the sun-dappled trees without really seeing them. "I wonder just what happened to make her decide to move?"

"Don't know," Alice said. "Half the school thinks she must have had some sort of awful falling-out with her mom and got kicked out. The other half thinks she's not Chief Swan's kid at all, but in witness protection for some reason. The other half really don't care, since she hasn't made much effort to make friends with anyone."

"That's three halves," Esme observed gently.

"So I rounded up. So sue me." Alice mashed her chin into her hand, staring morosely across the table at nothing. "I was so sure when I saw her in my vision, Esme. I was so sure."

"What about Edward? What does he think of her?"

Alice snorted. "Like he'd tell me." She shook her head. "I know they've met; they have biology together. He refuses to talk about it, though. All I know is that he's constantly pissed off because most of the guys at school keep thinking filthy things about her."

Esme fought to keep a smile off her face. "How do you know that?"

"He complains about having to listen to it. It's just impossible to tell exactly what he's so upset about - that he has to hear all the shit in their heads, or that it's about her."

"Have you tried making friends with her?"

"Of course." Alice heard her own voice becoming more impatient, and she tried to calm it. There was no reason to get upset with Esme - she hadn't done anything. "And she's a sweetheart in school. Shy, but I can tell she's smart, and she has a sense of humor. She won't come over, though, or do anything after school or on the weekends. I really don't know what else to try."

"Won't or can't?" Esme asked. "I've never met the chief of police. Is he a strict father, do you think?"

Alice shrugged, and scolded herself to keep from picking idly at her chipped nail polish. "She hasn't once mentioned him."

"Mm. Let me think about it." She could see that Alice was growing impatient with the conversation again, and wanted to be able to move as she fretted. "Anything else?" she asked, willing to give her daughter the room she needed to mope. She knew, as they all did, how much Edward needed a mate, a love, someone to give his eternal life the meaning the rest of theirs had. But these kinds of things couldn't be forced. And though Alice hated to be reminded of it, her visions had been wrong before. They were no guarantee that this Isabella Swan was the answer to Edward's loneliness.

"Not really," Alice said, tapping one manicured nail against the gleaming wooden tabletop. She grinned suddenly, remembering something. "Except that she's a complete klutz."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Alice nodded, grinning. "It's about all anyone really knew about her before she started school - apparently during summers she hangs out more with the kids on the rez than in town. But a couple kids whose parents work as nurses and orderlies at the hospital say that she's always in there, like clockwork, every summer."

"For what?" Esme asked, and she glanced up to see Rosalie check herself in the doorway, coming to an abrupt halt. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she caught the last few of Alice's words.

"Oh, just klutzy things. Falling down stairs, running into doors, breaking things." Alice's tone was light. "Wouldn't that be funny? Someone so uncoordinated joining this family?" She laughed out loud.

"Right," Esme said as Alice drifted out of the room and up the stairs. She returned her eyes to Rosalie, whose jaw was clenched tightly, her face a stony mask, her amber eyes glittering with tension. "Watch," she told her elder daughter.

"Oh, I will," Rose replied, crossing her arms over her chest. A muscle twitched in her cheek, under the smooth surface of her elegant skin. "I'll do more than watch. If something's happening, we'll find out."

"Don't scare her," Esme asked, her voice solemn as Emmett came up behind his mate and slipped his arms around her. "Alice says she's shy."

"We won't, ma." Emmett grinned.

"I mean it," Esme said, a fraction sharper. "The sight of you two is likely to scare her silly if she's as retiring as Alice says. I'd have Jasper do it, what with his empathic gift, but..."

"We know," Emmet said. "It wouldn't do anyone any good if he accidentally made a snack of her."

Rosalie elbowed him sharply in his side, which only made him laugh harder. "Rose, baby," he said, "you can't save everyone. Even if you think they might need it."

 

"No," she agreed, her eyes still on Esme. "But I can sure as hell try."

* * *

Rosalie Cullen sat in the darkness of a cloudy night on the Olympic peninsula. It wasn't raining to speak of; just some light mist, and the occasional splatter of drops the locals called "spitting." Rosalie had learned quickly that the locals here had as many words for rain as the Inuit had (apocryphally, she amended; there was no proof that the urban legend was actually true) for snow.

She had swathed her blond hair with a dark scarf, not wanting the pale strands to give her away as she sat high up in a tree, peering into the darkened window of Isabella Swan's bedroom. Alice's innocent reference to the town joke about Isabella's perpetual clumsiness had set off warning sirens in Rosalie's head, and Esme's, too. If the pretty little high school girl really was a first-class klutz, that was one thing. But if the moniker was really an attempt to hide something more sinister, Rose had every intention of exposing the cover-up. She and Esme both knew firsthand the insidious mess that abuse made of a young woman's mind, and though their memories of their past human lives were watery and indistinct, the emotions were anything but. Rose wasn't about to sit by and let someone else's life play out the way hers and Esme's had.

By unspoken agreement, she and Emmett had decided not to say anything to Alice until they had an answer one way or another. Their baby sister was overwrought anyway, with her conviction that the new girl was destined to become Edward's love and her inability to see Isabella's future, and her emotional state was so much more delicate than anyone else's in the household. Rose wanted no part in getting Alice worked up over what could - maybe, possibly - be nothing.

Instead she perched unmoving in the tree outside Isabella's bedroom window, listening to the girl mutter as she slept. The words were indistinct, mostly - sometimes not even words, or ones that made sense, anyway. Rosalie shook her head. How terrible would it be, she wondered, to talk in your sleep? To lay yourself bare, be so vulnerable, without being able to stop it? Maybe without even knowing you were doing it? To Rose, who valued her privacy above nearly everything else, it seemed utterly horrible. While most of what the girl murmured was nonsense, every once in a while an intelligible phrase slipped out, and Rose didn't like what she was hearing. The words  _stop, please_ , and  _sorry_  appeared far more often than she ever cared to hear.

The tree trembled suddenly, and Rosalie's nostrils flared as she breathed in the familiar scent of her brother, Edward. She hadn't heard him approach, but that was unsurprising. She'd been concentrating on the window, and anyway, Edward was a sneaky bastard. He could be quieter than just about anyone except Jasper, when he wanted to. She watched him scramble up to her without turning her head from the darkened window.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said when he was settled on a limb just below her. He didn't say anything, and Rose finally looked at him. His eyes were black, though she knew perfectly well that he'd been hunting just the other day and shouldn't look so hungry yet. Or was it something entirely different than that sort of hunger? She studied his pale, delicate features, but he was giving nothing away except irritation, and that was par for the course with Edward. Seeing him  _not_  irritated or withdrawn was unusual. He was very, very good at hiding whatever else he was thinking or feeling, and Jasper wasn't around to give her any clues. She exhaled impatiently and tried to swallow back her own irritation. "Not speaking, then? That's just fine. I can posit my own explanations for why you're here."

He glared, his dark eyes seeming to swallow the night like the inexorable pull of a black hole. "Care to offer your own explanation?"

"I certainly have nothing to hide." She refused to be cowed by his eyes, no matter how much they unnerved her. She'd never seen someone look so hungry, so desperate. "Alice let slip that Isabella's known as a first-class klutz around town. The way she said it made Esme and I agree that we needed to keep tabs on the situation."

"She prefers to be called Bella."

Rose raised an eyebrow at her brother. "So you've spoken with her, then?" She then revised her words. "Or listened to her thoughts, at least? You know, you could save Esme and I a lot of bother and worry if you just tell us whether she's being abused and using the clumsiness as a cover story."

"I could," he said, and his voice was tight, "except I can't."

"You want to run that by me again?"

His jaw was clenched tightly; Rosalie could see absolutely no movement of muscle in his angry face. "I said," he said, through his teeth, "that I can't."

"Has she already, like, sworn you to secrecy or something?"

Edward didn't answer, and after a few moments Rose turned away. There was no point in trying to drag information out of him; he could clam up tighter than a...than a what? She needed Emmett around to provide the humorous comparisons. They weren't really her forte. She watched the window instead. Isabella - Bella - was quiet for the moment. They had no classes together, and she'd only caught glimpses of the girl in the cafeteria and parking lot. She couldn't say yet what she thought of her - she'd never even heard her speak. All she knew was secondhand from Alice, and a little from Jasper. Edward had a class with her, but getting him to relay his thoughts was like...like...fuck. Where was Emmett when she needed him? Probably at home in front of one of the video game consoles. She let one corner of her mouth curve up; he was impossible, infuriating, infantile...and she loved him utterly.

She'd never known what it was like, before meeting Emmett, to be so wholly in love with another person. Her human once-fiancé she had thought she loved, before his violent betrayal. But it was nothing like what she felt for Emmett. She remembered what it was like, in the long years before she'd found him. Though she had Esme and Carlisle, and Edward, it was still impossibly lonely. She glanced sideways at her brother, huddled silently below her, staring steadfastly through Bella's dark window. She knew what he was feeling, and that knowledge made it impossible for her to ever get too frustrated with him. It was awful, knowing your life was the next thing to eternal, but to have no partner to share it with. Family was one thing. It kept them strong. But love, romantic love, was something altogether different. She knew Alice swore up and down that this girl, this Bella, was destined for Edward, but she wasn't holding her breath. It wasn't that she doubted her baby sister's sincerity, but her visions were so apt to change from moment to moment, and she hadn't seen anything more about Bella since the girl moved to town. If Edward saw (or heard, Rose amended) anything, he clearly wasn't sharing. And while he was here - possibly a good sign - he was also angry. She didn't need Jasper to tell her that.

Suddenly, something in her brain clicked. She stared hard at Edward. "You can't read her mind," she accused.

He didn't deny it. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"Shit, Edward. Is that what you're doing here? Trying to figure out what you can't your normal way?"

"Would it be possible for you to just leave me the hell alone?" His voice was quiet and furious.

"Sure. I'm not Alice. You know I'm more than willing to let you sulk by yourself." Rose paused. "But I already told you what Esme and I think might be happening to that girl, and I  _will not_  leave her alone until we know the truth. So if you're going to be stalking her, too, we might have a little problem."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and Rosalie returned her attention to the window. Bella was mumbling again. The only two words that Rose could catch were  _hate_  and  _cry_. She glanced at Edward again, fairly sure that he'd heard, too. The familiar hissing sound of Bella twisting and turning in her sheets surrounded them.

"You really think someone's hurting her?"

Rose was a little surprised that he had initiated conversation, but she schooled her expression so it wouldn't show. "Can't know for sure, but she has some of the warning signs. Shy, preternaturally quiet. Won't go places after school. And the big one - this talk of constant clumsiness."

"Has anyone suspected before?"

"How should I know?"

He didn't reply.

"Look, Edward. I know you know Alice thinks this girl is your Cinderella or whatever. But - "

"That's not why I'm here."

Rose blinked. Had he actually interrupted her? By  _volunteering information_? "Are you going to tell me why, then?"

She didn't really think he was going to answer, but he did. "You already guessed it," he said, his voice grim. "I can't see her thoughts; she's a complete blank. I know she's no idiot, so there has to be another reason."

"Things don't always happen for a reason."

"But it's never happened to me before."

Rose studied him. "I don't believe that's your only motive for being here."

"Yeah, well, the rest of it is private." His voice did not invite further prying.

Rosalie looked at her brother in the misty darkness. He was wearing a beat-up grey hooded sweatshirt with a rip at the throat, and only a little of his messy hair stuck outside the hood. If he were turned any further away from her she wouldn't be able to see his face at all, obscured by the fabric. His black eyes still unnerved her, but damned if she was going to say anything to him about it. His expression as he stared unblinking at the window was not happy in the slightest.

"Private?" she asked, though she knew he didn't want to talk anymore. "Ed, let me ask you something. You don't have to answer." Not that he would, anyway, she knew. "Would you be sitting here in this tree at three in the morning, listening to a human girl babble in her sleep, if Alice hadn't told you that you were destined to fall in love with her?"

He didn't respond, as she knew he wouldn't. Rosalie stood on a branch, stretching. She heard her spine pop, a familiar noise reminiscent of the long-gone years when she was actually human. Actually alive. "If you're going to sit here all night anyway, I'm going home," she said. She missed Emmett, and would rather spend time playing his idiotic video games than sitting here with her uncommunicative emo vampire of a brother. "Tell me if she says anything else intelligible, even if it doesn't make sense," she said, trusting on Edward's flawless vampire memory to relay the knowledge back to her without fail. "And if you see anything. Like talking to her dad, or whatever."

Edward's head moved minutely, the shadow of a nod that a human would never have detected. He did not look at her as Rosalie leapt lightly out of the tree and lit out for the cover of the forest, picking up speed as she ran home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Edward didn't move. His mind was in turmoil. Had Rosalie known he sat outside Bella's window? That he'd done so since the first night she'd arrived in town, fresh off a red-eye flight, still reeking of recycled airplane oxygen as she fell into the beat-up old bed, her father remaining downstairs to watch television? He had not been pleased to see Rose in his tree - on his favored branch, even - but the lure of Bella's proximity had not permitted him to turn around and leave before Rose noticed him. Her blood sang to him, igniting a furious thirst that no amount of elk or mountain lion could quench, and yet there was something else about her, too. She smelled divine, and it wasn't some fake flowery, perfumed shit like most other girls her age. No, what smelled so good was  _her_  - her skin, her very essence. He wanted to bury his nose in the shadowed curve of her throat, underneath the long wave of her hair, and inhale. Except, he knew, if he did so, he wouldn't be able to stop. Who was she, this little slip of a dark-haired girl, to turn his whole world upside down and shake it until he didn't know down from up anymore? He was an ageless vampire, an immortal creature, and yet when he was around her his thoughts and feelings whirled through him like the contents of an upset snow globe. It wasn't right. Part of him wanted very much to resent her - to hate her, even, for this. But every time he tried to give in to that desire, an image rose in his mind's eye of the first time she'd looked at him. Their eyes had met as she stood at the front of the biology lab, waiting to be recognized by the teacher. He'd never seen any eyes so deep, so shadowed, like warm dark velvet. He'd thought he could probably stare into those big, pretty eyes for eternity and never find the bottom.

Alice's conviction that they were somehow made for each other didn't help matters any. Edward railed against any notion of fate; he wanted so desperately to believe that he was master of his own destiny. That was why he'd left Carlisle and ultimately why he'd returned - he refused to believe that anything, not Carlisle and not his own vampiric nature - could control his actions. And just what had Rosalie meant, when she asked him whether he'd still be here outside Bella's bedroom window if Alice hadn't told him about her vision? It was an unfortunate question, tactless and to the point, the kind of question Rose excelled at. She was so marvelously good at asking the sort of uncomfortable questions that Edward couldn't get out of his head for weeks afterward. Would he still be here, without Alice's vision? Edward had to admit that, yes, probably he would. He just wouldn't be feeling quite so conflicted about it. Probably. Maybe.

Bella stirred again, and his attention snapped back to the slightly-open window. The hissing sound of her body moving against her sheets was electrifying, and though he couldn't see inside from this angle, his mind already knew precisely what she looked like asleep in her bed, her hair either caught up with elastic or spread against her pillow in a dark halo. She mumbled a little; he caught what he thought might be her father's name, Charlie, but nothing else was distinguishable as actual words. Rosalie's worry about Bella's safety threw him into even greater conflict; he couldn't read Bella's mind, so it was impossible to settle either Rosalie's worry or his own on that score. He wouldn't have put two and two together as Esme and Rose had, but now that it was pointed out to him, he did see what they meant about warning signs. He'd seen nothing while watching the house, but then, he admitted, he only dared keep his vigil for a few hours each night, from around three in the morning when Bella would already be fully asleep until six or so, when dawn broke along the damp, forested streets of the town. He'd never seen an interaction between Bella and her father, or anyone else, really, for that matter, unless answering a question now and then in biology counted. He shook his head, muttering curses under his breath. His mind literally would not let him contemplate the possibility of Bella being hurt by someone, and he had no idea why. Certainly he loathed the awful violence of domestic abuse, but this feeling went beyond that. He refused to believe it had anything to do with Alice's vision, though. There had to be another explanation, and he'd figure it out eventually. In the meantime, he'd join Rose's monitoring of the situation. The sooner they got an answer, the sooner she would leave Bella alone and he could return to watching her in peace.

* * *

"You ready, babe?"

Rosalie caught Emmett's eye in the mirror as he poked his head around her bathroom door. "Almost." She set down her mascara and contemplated her reflection.

"You're gorgeous, girl," Emmett said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing the side of her head. She fought back a smile at his display as she threw a few things into a purse and then left the bathroom, grabbing her schoolbag on their way out of the house. Edward, Alice, and Jasper had already left in Edward's car. Emmett veered toward his ridiculous Jeep, but Rose grabbed his shirt and hauled him in the direction of her car.

"Not today, monkey man," she said, slipping into the driver's seat and chucking her things behind her.

"Any particular reason you want to drive today?"

Rose smiled inwardly. She was no morning person so, though she loved cars, she did not often drive to school, preferring to either zone out or hold a cup of coffee in her cold hands, inhaling the smell deep into her lungs. She swore that even the steam held some magic caffeinated power, energizing her for the day. Though they didn't sleep, there was still a nighttime shift into a more quiet, reflective mode of thought, and breaking out of that early in the morning was just as unpleasant as she remembered waking up early used to be.

Now she patted Emmett's cold cheek as she pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. "Operation Save Swan is a go."

He wrinkled his nose. "Okay, two things. First, you don't even know if she needs saving. Hey!" He protested as she switched the radio station he'd just tuned to. "I'm the music guru guy!"

"My car, my music," she replied. "You know perfectly well that's always been the rule."

"And second," Emmett said, apparently deciding to drop the music argument for the moment, "can we please give this covert mission a better code name?"

"Like what?" Rosalie fought to hold back a smile. He was so juvenile, and she loved it. But damned if she was going to let him know it.

"How about..." Emmett scratched absently at his chin as he thought. It was a funny old-man gesture; Rose wondered if he'd learned it from a grandfather at some point. "How about Operation Operation? You know, like the game? Like, if we find out something's going down, then the bad guy gets buzzed for touching what he shouldn't."

"That's terrible, babe."

"I like it."

Rose knew she'd let him keep referring to the plan any way he wanted; she was just glad he was supportive of her theory and her attempt to figure out if the girl was really being abused or if she was merely surrounded by a mountain of coincidences. It was possible, Rosalie had to admit to herself. Unlikely. Statistically improbable. But possible. She considered her assets in this offensive. She had Emmett, Esme, and Carlisle backing her completely. Alice she didn't want to involve quite yet, because of her penchant to become overly emotional. That meant no Jasper either, for the moment, because to have one was to have the other. Edward, god only knew. She hadn't seen him this morning, and he hadn't seemed terribly happy about her interference the night before. Still, there was something going on between him and Bella, even if it was only one-sided at the moment. Whether it had anything to do with Alice's vision or not remained to be seen. All Rose knew was that he was conflicted and upset, and Bella was the cause. Whether that translated into him helping her or not, she couldn't say.

But one thing was crystal clear to Rosalie as she pulled into the dingy school parking lot and engaged the emergency brake, something she always yelled at Emmett for not remembering. She was going to figure out what was going on with Bella Swan, and she was going to do it soon.

She looked around the parking lot, catching sight of Bella's beat-up red pickup truck. At least that meant she was at school. Rosalie took a deep breath. She thought it was possible she should have considered her tactics beforehand, but not knowing the girl, it was impossible to say what might or might not make her open up. So she decided to plow ahead and see how it went. There were plenty of Cullens to help pick up the pieces if her approach was wrong. Rose flared her nostrils, catching Bella's alluring scent pervading her truck, then followed it without hesitation into the schoolyard.

"Hi."

Bella was sitting on a bench outside the main school doors, her delicate face buried in a dog-eared book. At the sound of Rosalie's approach her dark eyes shot up and her entire body tensed.

Rosalie tried to pretend she hadn't seen the frightened reaction that even a human would have noticed. She sat smoothly down on the bench next to Bella without being asked, but did not attempt to shake her hand or otherwise touch her. "I'm Rosalie. You know my sister, Alice Cullen." She decided it was best not to mention Edward until she knew just what sort of contact the two had had.

"Yes." Bella's voice was low and musical. Rosalie rather liked it, though she heard the shadow of hesitation in it as well.

"How are you settling in?"

Bella's eyes crinkled as she thought before answering. Rosalie liked that, too - it was nice to meet a human who didn't open their mouth without thinking. "It could be worse."

"An optimist, are you?"

Bella shrugged, toying with a ragged corner of her book. "I don't know if I'd go that far."

Rose leaned back. "Good. I hate people who have to see the goddamn bright side of everything."

Bella exhaled a breathy little laugh. It sounded more nervous than amused.

The first warning bell sounded, and it made Bella jump. Rose's first instinct was to put a hand on the younger girl's shoulder to steady her, but she resisted the urge. There was no telling what might set her off and make her even more afraid. "Alice and I will see you at lunch." She made sure that it wasn't a question, wasn't the sort of invitation Bella could brush off. With a languid wave in the dark-haired girl's direction, Rose sauntered off as if Bella were now completely gone from her mind and she had moved on to more pressing things. Too much attention would certainly make her uncomfortable, and she didn't want Bella getting suspicious yet.

"Subtlety's not your strong point, is it?" Emmett asked, appearing by Rose's side as she made her way toward her first class of the day.

"Strong point nothing, big boy." She knocked her hip into his teasingly. "If we'd left it to Alice, the question would already be asked and Bella would likely never speak to any of us again."

Emmett was silent for a moment, and it seemed to be a thinking silence. That was unusual for him. "Do you believe Alice's vision?" he asked, hesitantly, as they neared Rose's classroom.

"I believe she had one, certainly. Whether it pans out or not depends entirely on Bella and Edward, and I'm not going to meddle either way. The surest way to fuck up the future is to try and mess with it."

"But would you care so much? I mean, about finding out what's up with her? If nobody thought she might have anything to do with us, you know?"

Rose compressed her mouth into a thin line. She could almost hear herself asking Edward the same question last night, and she didn't much like her own words being thrown back in her face, even if Emmett didn't mean it that way. "If I suspected anything," she said, "I'd still have tried to help her. That isn't the question."

"Then what is?"

They'd reached her classroom. Rose paused just outside the doorway and smoothed a palm down his button-down shirt, pressing out slight wrinkles. "The question is whether any of us would have noticed her enough to suspect." She didn't like to admit it, but there it was. The Cullens existed in a kind of insular world, and not much from the social world of high school penetrated it. That wasn't necessarily so bad in and of itself, but it made her stomach clench uneasily when she had to admit that it was very possible some terrible things happened behind the closed doors of their quiet little town without their notice. And it wasn't that they didn't care whether people were being hurt. It was that sometimes nobody cared enough to notice.

* * *

When the lunch bell rang, Rose gathered her things and headed for the door. She could already see Alice waiting outside her classroom, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. Alice was never very good at waiting.

"Rosalie Cullen!" Alice snapped, Velcro-ing herself to Rose's side as they started down the crowded hallway. "What in god's name are you planning?"

Rose couldn't help but smile at her sister's vehemence. "Can't that crystal ball in your head tell you better than I could?"

"You know it doesn't work that way!" Alice almost wailed. "I saw you bugging Bella at lunch, but I have no idea why. I highly doubt you've suddenly changed your mind about her and Edward."

"There's nothing to change," Rosalie said, entering the cafeteria and wrinkling her nose both at the smell and the awful noise of several hundred teenagers all trying to talk at once. "I have absolutely no opinion one way or another about her and Edward."

"Then why - "

Rose left Alice behind as she caught sight of Bella entering from a different hallway. She heard her little sister's muttered grumblings as she followed her toward their target. "Relay to Edward that the boys are not sitting with us today," Rose said before they got close enough for Bella to hear. She sent her own thoughts his way, ordering the three Cullen boys to keep away, but it was always helpful to have Alice as reinforcement.

"Hey," Bella greeted them, and Rosalie was surprised to see what looked like a genuine smile touching her mouth.

"Hey yourself," Alice threw back, and the two shorter girls fell into step together just a little behind Rosalie. "How'd your  _Scarlet Letter_  paper go? Is it ready to turn in after lunch? What did you end up writing about?"

Rose led them to the Cullens' usual table and dropped into her usual chair. Alice left a space between them, and Bella took the chair on Alice's other side. That was fine with Rose; she could see them better this way, and with her heightened vampire senses hearing them over the constant cafeteria babble was no problem.

"I don't know if I got my point across as well as I wanted to," Bella said, toying with a little yellow apple she'd dug out of her backpack. She seemed almost comfortable around Alice, at this table on the sidelines, her back to the rest of the student body. "My thesis was that Pearl was the real victim of the story. She carries the stain of her parents' bad name, no matter what she does. Even if she grows up to be a model member of that community - pious and whatever - she'll never be able to escape what her parents did to her."

"Ooh, that's good," Alice said, a touch of jealousy in her voice, though Rose knew Alice could never sustain jealousy for more than a few seconds; she just didn't have it in her. "I never thought about it like that before."

Bella shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the praise, twisting the stem of her apple in her fingers. "It's just what I always thought, I guess."

"Do you like the book, then?"

"No." Bella shook her head, and Rose was pleasantly surprised to hear the decisiveness in her voice. She wasn't afraid to give an opinion when asked - that was definitely a good sign. If she was being abused, then at least her sense of personhood and autonomy hadn't been entirely beaten out of her.

"What don't you like about it?"

"Mm." Bella picked at the sticker on her apple until it came off, and she stuck it idly on the thigh of her jeans. "I don't like Hawthorne's writing style, and...I don't know. It's just..." She paused, and both Cullens let her think her words through before she continued. "Just...maybe it's more real-life than _Romeo and Juliet_  or whatever, but there's just nothing  _fun_  about it. I can't believe those two people actually loved each other. If they did, they'd have found a way to be together, despite the odds."

"Bella Swan!" Alice squealed. "We've got you figured out, now - you're a romantic!"

Bella's cheeks instantly turned pink, and she ducked her head a little, letting her hair fall in her face. "Well, that's just what I thought about the book." She tried to explain, but Alice wasn't having any of it.

"No, no, you can't take it back now," Alice cackled. "Hey, did you break your apple stem already?"

"No." Bella showed her the intact apple, lying in the palm of a small hand.

"Well, then we have to play the game, since we found out you're a romantic at heart." Alice motioned for her to twist the apple stem. "Say the alphabet, one letter for each twist. When it breaks, that letter is the initial of your true love."

Rosalie didn't bother hiding her grin; they weren't looking at her anyway.

"Do I have to?" Bella's voice was meek, but there was humor in it.

"Yes!" Alice made the twisting motion with her fingers again. "Go, go."

"But I already twisted it some. Does that matter?"

"Nope. Fate takes things like that into account," Alice said confidently.

"Fate. Right." Rose wondered at the sudden absence of humor from Bella's voice, but didn't say anything. "A," Bella recited, giving the apple stem a little twist. "B."

The stem broke away in her hand at "E." Rose wondered if Alice had seen that coming, and whether that was why she suggested the game.

"Who do you know with an E' name?" Alice asked in a falsely-innocent tone.

"No one," Bella replied, and there was something hard in her voice that Rose couldn't place. It wasn't anger, or sadness...could it be frustration? Suspicion? "Besides, even if I did have a true love out there waiting, he wouldn't be here."

"Why not?" Alice asked as Bella finally bit into her apple instead of playing with it. "I think lasting young love is maybe the most beautiful thing in the world."

"Yeah," Bella said, though it was not an agreement with Alice's statement, "well, it's not going to happen with me. As soon as I turn eighteen, I'm leaving Forks."

"Why?" Rosalie asked, trying to make her voice sound bored, but she wasn't sure she had succeeded.

Bella glanced at her, and the uncertainty was back. Clearly she did not altogether trust Rose yet, though she trusted Alice. "I think it might make more sense if you asked me why I'd want to stay," she said, and her voice lost the playful confidence it had had earlier. Now it was soft, hesitant...almost meek.

"Well, sure," Rose said, trying to coax the bright, cheerful Bella back to them. "I just wondered if you had any specific reasons."

Bella shrugged, refusing to look up from the table. She had a piece of apple in her mouth that she wasn't chewing; Rose could see the contour of it tucked against her cheek as if she were a little squirrel or chipmunk. "I have to go," she said suddenly, rising from the table. She gave Alice a faint smile that did not reach her eyes before she fled the cafeteria. Rosalie stopped Alice from going after her.

"Let her calm down," she said. "We've got something to do."

"I wish you hadn't provoked her," Alice said, staring wistfully at the hall Bella had disappeared down.

"Would you still be cranky if I said we were going to lure her home with us?"

Alice peered suspiciously into Rosalie's eyes, but after a moment her face cleared and she smiled. "Let's go." Rose had no idea exactly what Alice had seen, but she was more than happy to let her pry into their future if it meant she would be helpful and not judgmental in the short term. In the long term, there was no telling what might occur.

Rose led the way out to the parking lot, where a small group of students were smoking in the rain and a handful of others were rummaging in their cars, looking for misplaced assignments or books. She thought she probably should feel a little guilty about what she planned, but she couldn't. Their interaction at lunch had been brief, but it told her nothing that did not add to her suspicions. Bella seemed like a sweet, intelligent girl, but she was clearly hiding something. And if they couldn't use Alice or Edward to figure out her secret, they were going to have to resort to...alternate methods.

Rosalie didn't look to the right or the left as she strode purposefully up to Bella's behemoth of a truck and popped the hood. She knew from long practice that the way to not look suspicious was to act like you had every right to be doing what you were doing. She peered into the gaping maw of the old beast, nodding absently as she familiarized herself with the setup. Someone had done some reasonably-good repair work on the hunk of junk, and recently, too. She wondered who - it certainly hadn't been Bella herself. Let alone the fact that she didn't seem the type, Rose doubted that she could even lift some of the heavy, vintage parts under that hood. She rummaged around, trying not to get too much dirty grease on her hands, though the innards of the truck were actually reasonably clean. With a quick motion she unhooked one side of Bella's battery, and she took a pair of wire cutters from her bag and snapped two plastic-coated wires.

"What'd you do that for?" Alice asked. "Even I know that disengaging the battery is enough to make it not start."

"Exactly," Rose said, tucking the cut ends of the wires out of sight. "If even you know that, it's possible Bella does, too. The rest was for insurance."

"You'll be able to fix it again, right?"

"In less than five minutes," Rose assured her. "But now we have the perfect excuse to give her a ride home, and that's a first step, anyway."

"You are an evil, evil genius," Alice told her sister, with appropriate respect.

"I know." Rose flashed a falsely-sweet smile, which made Alice laugh. "Now let's get out of here, before someone sees us messing around with her truck and remembers it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella was late to class, which wasn't usual, but Edward didn't worry; he'd seen her run away from Alice and Rosalie, but saw them leave soon after, and assumed they were together. His sisters' insistence that the boys not join them for lunch would have amused him if this thing with Bella weren't so emotionally charged. He grimaced thinking about it. Where Bella Swan was concerned, he was tossed in so many different directions that he didn't know what he felt, and that just made him feel angry. It wasn't her fault, he tried to tell himself, but it wasn't easy to accept.

Especially when she rushed into class several minutes after the bell, panting, and threw herself into her seat next to him. She didn't look his way, but she didn't need to. Her breath pooling around her, the scent stirred up by the heat of her body, the rush of her blood into tiny capillaries so near the surface of her skin - it was almost too much to bear. He grabbed the corner of the sturdy lab table and held it tightly, clenched his jaw and tried not to breathe. Right now it felt more like it would be safer to expose himself by not breathing than by attacking his lab partner in the middle of the damn classroom. Edward stared straight ahead, not seeing the board or hearing the teacher prattle on about flatworms.

And just what were Rose and Alice thinking, anyway, trying to make friends with the girl? Besides Rose's obvious motive, that was. He wouldn't put it past the two of them to lure her into a friendship so that she'd be at the Cullen household all the time, and he'd never get any peace. If that happened, he swore to himself, he wouldn't stand for it. He'd leave, and stay away until they got it through their thick heads that he didn't want anyone trying to play matchmaker for him and he was in no mood to be teased and tormented. It was bad enough that he had to sit next to her for an hour each school day, her body so tantalizingly close and yet her mind an utter blank. Trying to hear her thoughts was like trying to climb a sheer glass wall - not even a vampire could do it. So why, he demanded of himself, did he keep trying?

As they broke up into pairs to complete their labwork, Edward heard something he hadn't expected: Bella's voice. Unbidden, uncoaxed, she was speaking to him.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Dear god, for what? She couldn't possibly know what her nearness did to him, so what was she apologizing for? Being late? That was no skin off his back. Being an inadequate lab partner? She was smart and capable; he had no complaints with her work, though she rarely spoke. But what, then, was she talking about? He risked a sideways glance and saw her focusing intently on his hands as he busied himself slowly setting out their lab equipment. She was chewing worriedly on her lower lip, and he almost lost it. The gesture was so heartrendingly adorable and innocently sweet that he felt his heart begin to melt. But at the same time, he was afraid her dull human teeth might inadvertently tear the tender skin, drawing blood. That would be just about the worst thing that could happen when he wasn't sure he was entirely in control of himself. Without thinking about anything else, he reached forward swiftly and tucked her chin in his hand, placing his thumb just below her lip and gently tugging it free of her bite. He moved too fast for her to flinch away before he touched her, but the moment his skin met hers he felt the physical manifestation of panic flood her body, and she pulled away from his hand with more force than was actually necessary for the gentle touch. He blinked, trying to figure her reaction out, before he remembered what Rose and Esme suspected. In the split second after she pulled free, staring at him with suspicion and fear written plainly in her big brown eyes, he made the decision not to make a big deal out of her reaction. He didn't know what Rose would suggest he do, but he aimed to ask her when next he saw her.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked lightly, turning back to the equipment on the desk. "Other than gnawing on yourself, that is. Lips like yours should be treated with more care."

Now where had that come from? He hadn't meant to say it, and he wasn't in the habit of letting things slip that he didn't intend. Scowling inwardly at himself, he risked a glance sideways again.

Holy hell, she was  _blushing_. His heart melted again as he saw the faint trace of pink light her cheeks, and he couldn't completely stop the smile that wanted to break like dawn over his face. It was all he could do to keep one side of his mouth firm; the other crooked upward as he tried to keep his eyes off of her and failed. Miserably.

She wasn't looking at him, and she was nervously toying with a pencil in her hands. He wanted to put his own hand over hers and still them, but he managed to keep the urge under control. She clearly didn't like to be touched, and he wouldn't dream of violating her personal boundaries, no matter how much he wanted to touch her. "I know you sit with your family at lunch," she said, her voice hesitant, a little shaky, and he wasn't sure if it was just talking that made her sound so nervous or whether it was the shock of his recent touch. "Rosalie told me to join her today, so I did. I didn't mean to mess up your routine."

Mess up his routine? How could she think -

Wait. Edward narrowed his eyes a little bit. She  _was_  messing with his routine, and sitting with his sisters at lunch was the smallest of the disturbances. His immediate reaction was to respond with cordial, soothing words, assuring her politely that it was no trouble at all, and far be it for him to protest when his sisters wanted girl time. Instead, he found himself saying, "Well, make it up to me, then."

She started to nod, but froze when the rest of his words left his mouth.

"Sit with me tomorrow at lunch. Then we'll be even."

Bella was watching him with the strangest expression on her face, like she wanted to say yes but was too suspicious to believe he meant it. She turned away after a long moment, picked up a test tube filled with an alcohol solution, and promptly dropped it again. The glass cracked, and liquid splashed across her notes and onto her sleeved arm. She flinched again, and this time Edward distinctly heard a hiss of pain. Before she could do anything else, he caught her wet arm and pulled the sleeve back, gently.

A cut that looked too deep to be accidental marred her smooth arm. Thankfully it was on the back of her arm, away from the vital arteries near her tender wrist, but it still looked fresh and angry. He could imagine that spilling rubbing alcohol, even diluted in water, on a wound like that would not feel pleasant.

"You as clumsy at home as you are here?" he forced himself to say, holding her arm steady and pulling her gently toward the sink at the back of the classroom. She followed, but jerked her arm away from him. He could easily have held it despite her small, human attempts to free herself, but he didn't. There was no need to scare her further by refusing to let go. Still, he followed her to the sink and watched as she ran cold water over her arm.

"I've always been a klutz," she said, her voice quiet and dark, as she ripped some coarse paper towel off the brown roll and held it to her dripping arm. Some of the water sopped up by the towel was tinged pink. Edward flinched, but he was surprised that he felt no bloodlust, only concern for the delicate human girl standing in front of him. He wanted to know what had really happened to put that mark on her arm, but he knew better than to expect a truthful answer from her. If her father really was abusing her to the point of causing injuries like this, then there was no doubt she'd be too afraid to admit it. So, though he wanted confirmation and he wanted it now, he let her lie. "I even ran through a sliding glass door when I was little."

"Really? I got stepped on by a horse when I was a kid," Edward said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. To his surprise, he saw a faint smile touch her expressive mouth. Did she find him amusing? That was a novel idea. He didn't think anyone had ever considered him funny before.

"Everything all right back here?" the teacher asked, coming over to peer at them.

"Yes, sir," Edward said, pitching his voice to the soothing, reassuring tone that worked so well with human authority figures. "Just a little spill. We'll get it cleaned up right away."

"Let me know if you need help," the teacher responded before he drifted away again, and Edward grabbed more paper towels to mop up their desk. Heading back in that direction, he felt Bella following him. He could almost feel her eyes on his back, measuring him, trying to figure him out. Well, too bad. He couldn't figure her out, and he was more than willing to leave her at a disadvantage, too.

"Can you write with that hand?" Edward asked, noticing that it was her right arm that was wounded.

"Sure." Her voice was faint, noncommittal.

"Then you take notes," he said, fetching her pencil from where it had fallen under the desk and placing it in her hand. "I'll do the actual experimenting stuff. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself any more today."

"Thanks." Her voice was still faint, and he risked a sideways glance. Her delicate face was very, very pale, and little beads of sweat pricked her hairline. He thought about asking her if she wanted to go to the nurse, but decided not to. There was no reason to push her just yet. Besides, he wanted to talk to Rose before he did anything more.

* * *

"You're cruel."

"Cruel nothing. I'm doing it for her own good, you know."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Rosalie Cullen, there is absolutely no possible way fucking with that girl's car could possibly be in her best interest."

Rose looked at him with a masked kind of sadness - almost pity. "Ed," she said, "there are plenty and plenty of things you don't know, no matter how old, how smart you think you are. That girl needs help, and nobody else seems willing to do it. So I am."

"I still don't see what breaking her truck is supposed to do for her."

Rose eyed him carefully, as if waiting for something, judging something. She breathed out through her nose, a long breath, while she watched him. Finally she nodded, just a tiny incline of her head, and beckoned to him. It was the final period of the day and they should have been in class, but it was amazing what human authority figures would let you get away with when you were polite and didn't cause trouble. "Come with me."

Edward followed his sister suspiciously out of the hallway and into one of the small courtyards surrounding the school. They sat on a cement bench, and Rose looked at him again.

"Ed," she said, "you're my brother, and I love you. But you're a man, and that means there are some things you will never understand."

"You think because I'm a male I don't understand what it feels like to be hurt?"

"Not the same as girls and women do," she said. Edward felt a touch of anger, but he tried to squash it down. The way to keep Rose talking was definitely not to argue with her. "Look, it's different for you. It's different to be born a little girl, you know? To know from a very, very early age that your entire world, your very existence, depends on the men in your life being good, kind ones."

"It's not like that anymore," Edward found himself saying, despite his earlier decision to keep quiet.

Rosalie didn't seem angered by his outburst. "Not so blatantly, maybe. Humans have evolved enough to understand that women and children aren't property anymore, aren't things to be owned. But that doesn't mean people's hearts and minds have evolved along with their laws. What I'm trying to tell you is that a young girl like Isabella Swan is very delicate, and there's one very good reason for that."

"What's that?"

"The one man in the world who is supposed to care about her, be there for her, is  _hurting_  her. Where the hell do you turn for help when you grow up knowing that you can't trust your own father?"

"Now, wait." Edward held up a hand. "I get what you're saying, but why is that worse for girls than it is for boys? Little boys can fear abusive fathers, too."

"But those little boys know - even if it's subconsciously - that someday they'll grow up to be men. Strong, independent people who can take care of themselves and keep from getting hurt anymore. But if a father is hurting his daughter, chances are he's hurting her mom, too. And little girls see that - they see a grown woman who still can't fight back, and they don't understand the twisted psychology behind domestic abuse and why victims stay. All they see is that it never ends. For little girls, growing up doesn't necessarily equal freedom."

Edward could see what Rosalie was trying to say, and he nodded. It made sense, but there was still something he didn't understand. "So what does this have to do with Bella's truck?"

"That poor girl doesn't think she can trust anyone," Rose said. "Life has taught her that. It's a hard lesson, and nearly impossible to reverse, but I'm going to try. If he's hurting her, she sure as hell can't trust her father, and I'm suspicious about her mother, too, if she chose to willingly come live with Charlie like everyone says. And when you can't trust your parents, who can you trust? Probably no one, in Bella's mind. To try and change that belief, we need to show her that we can be trusted. The minor sabotage of her truck is just giving me a chance to show her some kindness by offering her a ride home."

Edward stared at his sister, conflict warring in his head. On one hand, he had to hand it to the evil genius that was Rosalie. She was more conniving than anyone else he knew, up to and including the Volturi - and he knew she'd take that as a compliment. But on the other hand, it still seemed cruel to deliberately do something that would cause Bella unhappiness, even if the end result was to alleviate said unhappiness. It seemed somewhat Machiavellian to him, and he didn't know in this case whether he thought the ends really did justify the means. And then on the  _other_  other hand, he balked at Rose's assertion that Bella could trust his family. There was absolutely no way, he thought, that they were safe to be around. Carlisle sure, and Esme, as long as she wasn't placed in any position that tempted the inner bloodlust too badly. But the rest of them? He wouldn't trust Emmett as far as he could throw him. He trusted himself even less.

And yet...and yet. He wanted to help the poor girl, he truly did. He was now almost certain that she was being abused at home, and it wasn't fair. She was still so unfathomable to him, and not just because he couldn't read her mind. She continually surprised him, as she had earlier in the biology room when she'd spoken to him voluntarily. The sweetness of her low voice, a little musical, ran through his bones, as if the sound waves were actually something he could feel. Vampire senses weren't  _that_  keen, but with Bella, it seemed like he was ten times more aware of every motion and sound.

Idly, Edward entertained the idea of finding Bella and telling her about his sisters' devious plan. He'd rescue her from them, and she'd be so grateful... But, no. It was only a silly fantasy, and he knew he'd never actually do it. His modus operandi when it came to his family members was to let them do what they wanted to unless he was absolutely sure it was a bad idea. They were all smart, savvy individuals, and usually correct in their choices. He didn't know for sure whether Rose's plan to start drawing Bella out of her self-reliant little silent shell was a good one, and since he didn't know, he decided the best course of action was to trust his sister. The habit had never let him down before, that he could remember, and vampires had excellent memories. He still felt bad about what Rose was doing to Bella, but he was willing to wait and see if Rose turned out to be right in the end. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

"She needs to start trusting other people," Rosalie said, drawing Edward out of his musings. "She'll never admit to what's happening at home if she doesn't think she can trust anyone, and the sooner she talks, the sooner we can get her out of there."

_And then what?_  Edward thought solemnly. If all Rose wanted came to pass, what would happen then?

* * *

"What's the matter?" Rose asked, sauntering up beside Bella. She almost felt bad about the trick they'd played on her - Bella stood next to her truck, looking like the world had come to an end. Her big eyes turned to Rose, and the taller woman wanted to snake an arm around her, do something to help ease the hurt in her eyes. She refrained, knowing that Bella did not like to be touched.

"Somebody messed with it," Bella said, and the world of frustration in her voice made Alice flinch and watch Rose appraisingly. Rose flapped a shushing hand at her little sister - Alice was a terrible, terrible liar and she didn't want Bella getting suspicious. "It won't start." Bella slipped sideways, flopping her body against the truck to lean her back against it. It was an awkward, uncoordinated gesture, and Rose was amazed that the girl didn't end up on the ground.

"How do you know someone messed with it?" Rose asked gently. "It's an old vehicle, babe."

"I'm not stupid." Bella's voice held a little anger, a little impatience. Rose didn't know what Alice was thinking, but for herself she was glad to hear that angry spark. It was proof of a girl who had not given up - not entirely, anyway. "Look." Bella raised the hood with a practiced ease that Rose had not expected, and pulled at the frayed ends of the plastic-coated wires that had been clipped and (Rose had hoped) hidden. "I know I'm not the bubbliest, friendliest girl in school, but who would do something like that?" She let the rusted hood of the behemoth vehicle slam shut again, visibly bracing herself against the unpleasant sound. "Now I'm going to have to walk home, and I'm going to be late. And Charlie will - "

"Will what?" Rose asked quickly, surprised that Bella had even said that much.

"Doesn't matter." The dark-haired girl's voice had turned sullen, and Rose knew she wasn't getting any more information out of her. Bella heaved a weary sigh, pulled her backpack out of the cab of the truck, and slammed the door. She turned, about to start walking home, but Rose nodded Alice forward and the little vampire stopped Bella with a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

Bella flinched visibly, which Rose had expected. She turned, her wary eyes struggling to look normal. "Your hands are cold," she said quietly, her voice gentle. She reached into her backpack and offered Alice a thick pair of knitted gloves.

"You know what they say about cold hands." Alice grinned, but took the proffered gloves anyway.

"No." Bella quirked her head slightly to the side, a question if Rose ever saw one. "What do they say?"

"You mean you've seriously never heard anyone say that before?"

"I'm from Arizona," Bella offered, the words almost a hesitant question, as if willing them to believe this as a relevant reason for her ignorance. "We don't know much about cold hands back home."

It did not escape Rose's notice that she still spoke about Arizona as home, even though Forks was now her address and her reality.

"Well," Alice said, "around here, we say that cold hands mean a warm heart."

A slow, unexpected smile broke over Bella's face, and it lit the grey, drizzly parking lot like summer sunshine. Rose blinked, watched Alice return the smile like the maniacal pixie she was, and resisted the urge to look down at her own hands, checking them for telltale vampire sparkles. Bella's smile was that bright, though it was not big.

"Whoever thought of that," Bella said, her quiet voice touchingly sweet, "must have had you in mind, Alice."

Alice's giggle rang through the lot, and Rose almost rolled her eyes. No way Alice needed an acolyte to say things like that to her...but maybe it would be good for Bella. Anything that might be in Bella's best interest was fine with Rose, and so she bit her tongue and let the two dark-haired girls do what they would.

"Come on," Alice said, reaching for Bella's hand again - this time safely clad in a knitted glove. "Rose and I can take you home, and we'll see if we can get someone out here to look at your truck."

Bella's face fell again at the mention of her broken vehicle, and she cast a wistful glance at it. Rosalie loved cars, but she didn't know that she'd ever had such an...emotional bond with one before. She'd have to ask Alice later if she had any idea why this hunk of junk seemed to mean so much to the girl. Rose was happy to see that Bella willingly took Alice's outstretched hand - there was a moment of indecision, but she did take it - and allowed herself to be led toward Rose's car.

"I have a friend over on the rez who could fix it," Rose heard Bella say as she followed the two shorter girls.

"Yeah?" Rose didn't want anyone else mucking with that truck until she had a chance to reverse her handiwork. The ease with which Bella had found her wire-snipping had Rose a little irked, and she didn't want anyone from the werewolf tribe - never mind whether Bella's friend was actually a wolf or not - touching things until she'd patched it up.

"He's the one who fixed it up to begin with," Bella continued. Her voice was soft, hesitant, though she spoke with more ease than Rose had ever heard from her. "I bought it off him when I got my license."

"Is he cute?" Rose asked, knowing it was the obvious next thing for a normal empty-headed teenager to ask, and also knowing Alice was not about to go there, what with her conviction that Bella was the one to save Edward from himself.

Bella turned to frown at Rosalie, looking perplexed. "I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

Bella shrugged and waited next to Alice for Rose to unlock her car. "We grew up together, sort of. I mean, when I was here with my dad. Charlie's friends with his dad. Jake's just always...been around."

Rose slid into the driver's seat, and Alice pushed Bella into the passenger's side before climbing in behind her. "Okay," Rose said, "where to?"

"Can't we go to our house and hang out?" Alice whined.

Bella shifted uneasily in her seat, and Rose saw her almost fold into herself, huddling, small and hesitant, next to the door. "Sorry, Alice," she said, and her voice conveyed actual regret. "My dad wouldn't like it."

"We're not monsters, you know," Alice said, and Rose almost choked keeping down the gasp of shocked laughter that threatened to burst from her mouth. No, Alice was no liar, but she had a strange sense of the truth

"I know." Bella's voice was small, and Rose's heart went out to her. "It's not you, Alice. I promise."

They pulled up in front of an old-ish, cute-ish two-story house, the sort of place Rose could completely see a pair of newlyweds falling in love with twenty years ago. Now it was in need of a coat of paint, and nobody had kept up with the gravel driveway - it was a mess of ruts and muddy holes. The side yard held several wet black piles that were obviously the remnants of trash burning - illegal in this county, but who was going to say anything to the chief of police? No cars were in the driveway, but Bella still looked jumpy as she unbuckled her seat belt and looked over at Rose. "Thanks," she said, her voice jittery, though sincere. "And I'm sorry, Alice. I really wish I could come over."

"We'll figure it out sometime," Alice said, though Rose could tell that the bright, positive tone was utterly false. "No worries, Bella. Everything will work out fine."

Rosalie knew perfectly well that Alice wasn't just talking about visitation privileges, and from the strange, confused look Bella gave the little vampire, she had caught the odd note in her voice, as well. Rose would have to warn Alice to be more careful. She wasn't normally careless, but she felt drawn to Bella in a strange way that left her a little less cautious than Rose would like to see. Alice was sure Bella would become their sister soon, Rose knew that. But that didn't mean they could just go blabbing Alice's version of the future to the poor human girl. God knew what would happen if she thought her new friends were mad as hatters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence in this chapter.
> 
> Cliffhanger warning.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella peered carefully through the front door of her father's house. Charlie's cruiser wasn't in the drive, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Sometimes he'd catch a ride home with a buddy instead of driving home drunk - he was cruel, but he wasn't stupid. She'd never known him to volunteer to be the designated driver, either. When his car needed regular maintenance he would sometimes leave it with the police force's handyman overnight, too. She'd learned young that, while the cruiser in the driveway always meant pain, its absence by no means promised safety.

But the house was silent, and that was a nearly-sure sign of Charlie's absence. The man made noise even when he slept; Bella was certain her father's snores were where the expression  _sawing logs_  had come from. It literally sounded like the rake of metal teeth ripping into soft, pulpy wood, so much so that she could not attend the county's annual lumberjack festival. Charlie enjoyed it - one of the highlights of his year, in fact - but the sound of racing, rasping handsaws biting into white pine and Douglas fir overwhelmed her senses and sent her into a dizzying, nauseating spiral of terror. She'd read in a book from the Phoenix library's self-help section that sound and smell were two deeply rooted senses, and often noises and odors could bring back memories and emotions that had been long repressed. Well, she wasn't any good at repression, she didn't think - didn't repression mean forgetting? There were plenty of things she didn't think she'd ever be able to forget.

Not hearing the telltale sawing rasp of Charlie's snores or the din of mindless sports on the television, Bella allowed herself to breathe as she eased into the living room, straightening the couch cushions Charlie somehow managed to hurl around the room every day. She'd think he did it on purpose just to make her clean them up, except that it was such a simple task. No, when the chief of police did something purposefully, you damn well knew it. There was no maybe. Settling a corner cushion in place, Bella noticed a small, perfectly round hole in it. The edges were melted and blackened in an unmistakable cigarette burn mark. She swore under her breath, not used to raising her voice much above a whisper, even when she was alone, and tried to flip the cushion over. Unfortunately, there was a large beer stain on the other side. The fabric was not washable, and of course Charlie didn't have a steam cleaner or anything to deal with upholstery problems like this. Bella knew full well that she had caused neither the stain nor the hole, but she also knew that she'd be punished if Charlie saw either of them. It was unclear whether his drinking was so bad that he actually forgot the damage he inflicted on his own house and possessions or he simply was happy to take any opportunity that presented itself to blame her for something - anything. The reasons didn't matter anymore to Bella. What could his motive possibly matter, when the end result was the same - pain, pain, always pain?

She gathered beer cans, Pepsi cans, and hard liquor bottles from the piles Charlie left around the house - the living room, his bedroom, the kitchen, even the bathroom. She grimaced, but was no longer surprised at the sheer amount of liquid the man could consume. It was no wonder he was always getting up at all hours of the night to pee, often leaving drunken puddles for her to find, and clean, the next day. This was one of the jobs she loathed most, and also one that she needed to be most diligent about. Her father's friend Billy Black had given her a puppy the summer she was thirteen, when his hunting dog whelped. She'd missed a puddle in the hallway, somehow, in her excitement over her first - and only - pet. Charlie blamed the mess on the dog and drowned it, though she'd begged him not to. The pup hadn't done it - Bella knew that. She also knew, after that day, just what the man who called himself her father was capable of. She'd thought it was strange Billy never asked about the dog; he was over at their house often enough. Maybe it was just one of those things old friends didn't talk about. Bella admitted, as she dumped an armload of aluminum cans and glass bottles into the recycling bin, that she wouldn't know. She didn't really know what it was like to have old friends, good friends. Jacob was the closest she had, and like she'd told Rosalie Cullen earlier, he was just...there. Like the old chest of drawers in her bedroom, or the old green wall phone in the kitchen, he was a static part of her life.

Bella shivered a little as she thought of Rosalie and the rest of the Cullens. They were too canny by far - she knew she was paranoid, but she was afraid that they knew something was going on. Nobody else knew. Nobody else cared to know, and that's what made all the difference, she felt. She finished straightening the living room, quickly vacuumed up the mess of Corn Nuts Charlie had somehow ground into the carpet the night before, and moved on to the kitchen. The egg pan from breakfast was soaking in the sink; she'd done the rest of the morning dishes before school. Quickly, she turned on the oven so that it could preheat and pulled out the chunk of chuck roast she'd had marinating in the refrigerator since the night before. Thursday night was pot roast night, and Charlie didn't look kindly on any deviations from his established routine. There was hardly time for something like roast to cook properly between the time she came home from school and the time he expected his meal, but things like that didn't bother Charlie. He still expected what he expected, no matter what the difficulties might be. With a small sigh, Bella fetched an onion and two small potatoes. She sliced the onion thinly, and lay the round, pungent curls on a big piece of aluminum foil set inside a round Pyrex casserole dish. Charlie didn't have any nice kitchen gear like a Dutch oven, so she had to make do. She cubed the potatoes, and lay them over the onion, along with a fair sprinkling of salt and pepper. Then she put the marinated roast on the potatoes, and crimped it all into a foil-wrapped package. Pouring some of the marinating liquid in and adding a few herbs she knew Charlie would never even taste, she finished sealing the foil and put the dish into the oven to broil until Forks' chief of police came home.

The good thing about this dish, she mused as she washed the egg pan and set it in the dish drainer, was that it was basically ready to go now. She didn't have to do anything else except hope Charlie didn't come home early. That gave her time to inspect the house for messes he might have made, doing damage control as she went. This was so routine to her that it, unfortunately, gave her plenty of time to think as she worked. Usually her mind chose to dwell on her anxiety of the upcoming evening, but not today. Today her thoughts kept turning to the beautiful, mysterious Cullens.

Okay, she had to admit to herself, they'd been on her mind a fair amount since she started school here in Forks almost three weeks ago. Sweet little Alice kept trying to make friends with her, god alone knew why. It was like she'd homed in on Bella as a project or something. Bella felt a little uncomfortable around her, though Alice was undeniably friendly. She felt a little like Brittany Murphy's character in  _Clueless_ , and didn't like it. But Rosalie was even more frightening - terrifying, really. Not only was she breathtakingly beautiful, but she exuded this no-nonsense air that shook Bella to the core. When Rosalie Cullen's unnatural amber-colored eyes snapped in her direction, Bella felt even clumsier and plainer than usual. She felt, in fact, like the older girl could see right through her, like she was stripped bare and there was nothing that would or could not be judged. And yet, the stunning blonde had never actually said or done anything unkind to her. That might be the most frightening thing of all, Bella thought, as she unwillingly opened Charlie's bedroom door and stepped inside to see what kind of a mess he'd left for her. When people were cruel, she knew what to expect. The petty hostility of the girls at her previous high school was mirrored in the Forks female student population, and while it didn't make her happy, exactly, at least she knew where she stood with them. With the Cullens, who had yet to say a hurtful word to her, there was much more ambiguity. She disliked ambiguity.

Charlie's room was dark, and smelled rank. Though it was wet and cold outside, Bella opened the window and propped the door so it wouldn't blow shut, hoping to air the place out. She picked up his dirty laundry with distaste, throwing it into the hall to carry downstairs to the washing machine. He didn't have a laundry basket or hamper - he much preferred Bella to carry his things in her arms. Probably, she thought, because he knew how even the scent of him on his clothing scared and revolted her. She went to make his bed, and made a disgusting find instead. How the hell he could manage to do  _that_ while drunk off his ass, she didn't know, but it made her want to puke as she stripped his dirty sheets and added them to the pile of laundry that needed to be done that night. She'd taken to folding an old, flat sheet on top of his mattress before putting on the fitted sheet, as a sort of protective barrier for his mattress. Now that she was living here full-time she didn't know when he'd ever have to look at his own mattress again, but she was sure that when he did, he'd find a way to blame her for the stains on it.

His pillows were in no better shape, but there wasn't much she could do about them except keep pillowcases on them and hope he never looked. Her own mattress - a sagging hand-me-down thing from someone in Billy Black's extended family - looked much cleaner than Charlie's, and it had to be at least twice as old. It smelled a little funny and hurt her back, but at least it wasn't covered in disgusting man-stains. Bella shuddered, trying not to think about it as she carried his laundry down the stairs and threw it in the washing machine.

Two of the three Cullen boys didn't really acknowledge her presence at all, which was fine with her. She'd much rather be ignored than scrutinized. The giant, terrifying one with the gait of a pro football player she'd never actually heard talk, so she wasn't sure if he was really as stupid as his jock exterior. The blond one who looked like he always either had a headache or was about to puke didn't talk much, either, but she'd at least seen his mouth move while he conversed with Alice, though she hadn't heard the words. No, it was only Edward, the horrifyingly beautiful one, who talked to her. He was perhaps even more frightening than his sister Rosalie, because she couldn't figure out his motive, either. Rose, at least, was consistent in her confusing behavior. Edward was more like a manic depressive. Sometimes she could feel his eyes glowering at her, and they made her feel like she was capable of shriveling up and dying on the spot. The intensity of his anger was even more frightening than Charlie's, she thought, because at least with Charlie she knew what to expect. He was never nice. But Edward could say the sweetest, most unexpected things, and their dysfunctional conversation during biology this afternoon made no sense to her. Inviting her to sit with him at lunch? Where had that come from? They didn't know each other. They didn't even speak, most of the time.

But mother of god, he was beautiful. The low velvet of his voice when he spoke wrapped her spine in a tingling kind of warmth - similar to a nails-on-a-chalkboard feeling, but pleasant. And she couldn't get over his eyes, how they changed color seemingly with his moods, and were both shadowed and honest at the same time. It was a contradiction in terms, a catch-22, and she couldn't explain it, but when she looked at him, that's what she saw.

The cut on her arm from last night's "conversation" with her father had ignited Edward's curiosity, though, and she couldn't have that. Nobody could question Charlie, Forks' chief of police. If they did and he got wind of it, he'd kill her. She wanted to believe that he wouldn't, couldn't go that far. But she knew better. Her tangled, fearful heart told her it knew exactly what Charlie was capable of.

_Speak of the devil_ , she thought, sighing a little as she heard the squeal of tires and crunch of gravel outside. She quickly snapped new sheets over Charlie's mattress, pulled the blankets up over them, and smoothed out his quilt. The room wasn't entirely clear of the lingering odors of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and unclean male body, but she closed the window and drew the curtains anyway. Charlie hated coming upstairs to bed and finding his window open, regardless of how it smelled.

The front door slammed open, and Bella eyed his room again, looking for anything else dirty or misplaced. His closet door was open, but that was normal. Hanging in plain view was a rack of belts. He always did like tools that multitasked, and to him a belt was for both holding up his trousers and hitting his daughter. When he lost his temper he'd hit her with whatever came to hand - or throw whatever was in reach - but the belts were different. They were for more calculated punishments. That kind terrified Bella more than the other. When he lost his temper he was frightening, but it was over quickly. Whatever damage he did then was more bad luck on her part than anything else. But when he planned things out ahead of time - that was scary. That was when he acted, not to alleviate his own anger or frustration, but to deliberately hurt. Bella didn't know if she could think of anything more frightening than that.

Finding nothing more she could do to stall upstairs, Bella slowly made her way to the ground floor. She grit her teeth and felt her shoulders slump; it was always so difficult not knowing what sort of mood he would come home in, or what would set him off rather than placate. It changed day to day - hour to hour, even - and she felt like she never guessed correctly.

Today he grunted when he saw her, as he stood in the entryway hanging up his jacket. "So you  _are_  here," he said. His voice gave nothing away.

Bella's brow drew up in a confused frown.

This clearly did not make him happy. "The truck, Bells, the fucking truck! Where the hell is it? I thought maybe you'd gone and done something stupid, like gone to see a little friend or something." He reached out and fisted his big hand in her hair, and yanked hard. She yelped a little, stumbling toward him. When she crashed into his side he let go, stroking her hair as if she were a pet. "But no, I see you weren't that stupid, at least."

She didn't know what to say. The deadly playful, singsong voice was what she hated most to hear from him. "So how stupid  _have_  you been, then? Where is it?"

"I-it died," she whispered, carefully not looking at his face. "At school." There was no reason to give him the details. "I was going to ask Jacob to look at it t-tomorrow."

"Jakey-boy? You'd ask little Jakey Black instead of your old man?" His voice was still deliberately light, which she knew was Charlie at his most dangerous. One of his hands still stroked her head firmly, the calluses catching in her hair and pulling painfully. The other slowly wrapped around her arm just above her elbow, the fingers sinking into the soft, tender flesh of her inner arm. There would be finger-shaped bruises in the morning, she knew. Possibly even hard, raised goose-egg-like swollen marks.

"I d-don't want to bother you," she said, which was completely true.

"And yet you have, Bells," he said, shaking his head and tisking at her mockingly. "Don't you think I was worried when I came home and didn't see your truck? Didn't you think I'd worry about my only daughter?"

_No_ , Bella thought. After all, why would he worry? He was the only one who hurt her physically.

"I think," he continued, "that you owe me an apology for making me worry like that."

"I'm sorry, Charlie," she said automatically, "for making you worry." A part of her wondered why she bothered complying - it didn't help any. There must be something psychologically wrong with her.

"Mm." It wasn't an acceptance of her words. How could it be, she wondered. The "apology" was only a farce, anyhow. "Now, you see, we have a little problem, you and me." He stopped petting her head, but did not release her arm. "I just spent a long day at work to house and clothe and feed you, and you're making me wait for my dinner, because now I have to punish you. So that's really two punishments you deserve, isn't it?"

Bella didn't say anything. It wasn't the sort of question that needed answering.

"Tell me, Bells. What punishment do you think is appropriate, here?"

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat. This was possibly one of the things she hated most, when he forced her to choose. Of course, it was really a game of guess-what-Charlie-wants-to-do-to-you, and if she guessed wrong, which statistically was most of the time, that only made it ten times worse.

"You know I always like the punishment to fit the crime," he went on.

_It only fits in your twisted reality_ , Bella thought bitterly.

"So tell me. You worried me. I didn't know what I was going to find when I opened the door. What sort of punishment would fit that?"

The silence stretched between them, brittle and acrid. His hand tightened on her arm the longer she went without talking, but her mind was an utter blank. She didn't even know what he might want her to say. Finally, when she thought her bones might snap under the pressure of his big hand and her fingers began to tingle from loss of circulation, she caught a painful breath and tried the only thing she could think of. "You're wasting time you could be eating dinner," she said. Food was just about the only thing that could distract him.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I am. And so...I think, since I had to worry, since I had to not know what was going to happen, that's what will happen to you." He smiled, which was never a comforting sight, and hauled her up the stairs by her shaking arm. She stumbled, and he yanked hard without looking back. Bella felt a strange pop in her shoulder socket, and a rush of dizziness hit her head. She knew that odd sensation: he'd pulled the joint out of its socket. Righting herself, she twisted a little until it popped back in. It would be searingly painful in the morning, but for now she was just glad it wasn't broken.

They reached the hallway, and instead of turning into her room, Charlie took her to his. Bella winced. That was never good. He threw her on his freshly-made bed, and ordered her not to move. Bella lay face down, surrounded by his unclean smell, hating it, fighting back tears and fighting her own survival instinct that wanted her to run. Her body's instinct did her no good in this situation. Her brain knew better.

With rough hands he stripped her methodically to her bra and underwear, and then Bella felt cold metal against her wrists as he handcuffed her to his antique iron headboard. She couldn't see with her head mashed into his limp pillow, but she didn't want to, and made no attempt to turn her head to the side. She felt improvised manacles around her ankles - heavy chain and clamps from the hardware store could be turned to many uses - pulling her legs out to the corners of his queen-sized bed. When he was satisfied that she couldn't move, he opened the window and hauled the heavy bed so that she was in the direct path of the cold, wet wind blowing in.

"Now then," he said, "since you're being punished, I'll have to dish out my own dinner. What I have to do in order to raise you right, Bells. You should appreciate all the sacrifices I make for you."

She remained silent.

"So this is your first punishment, little girl, for making me worry and wait. You can wait while I eat and watch the game, and you can worry about your punishment for inconveniencing me, and thinking about inconveniencing Jake, and making me serve myself dinner." He patted her bare shoulder, and before she could stop herself, she flinched away from his touch. Immediately she felt a sharp slap on her butt, clad only in light cotton underwear that was now, along with her skin, slowly being covered with cold, windblown rain. She was already shivering, nearly naked in the wet wind, and if he was going to eat and watch TV it would be at least two hours before he returned. She clenched her jaw, fighting to keep from shivering while he watched. He spanked her again, in the exact same spot, and she bit back a whimper. His hands were hard, and he knew just how to hit to make the most of them. Her arm, where he'd grabbed it, was throbbing, and her popped shoulder joint was screaming in pain at the unnatural position as her arms were handcuffed above her head.

"See you later, Bells," Charlie said, his voice mockingly sweet as he left, leaving the door wide open to maximize airflow and therefore wind and rain against her bare body.

* * *

_"Hey."_

Rose's head shot up. She flared her nostrils, scenting the wind. Fuck. The mutt must have been downwind of her on a blustery night like this in order to sneak up on both her and Emmett like that. For a moment she wished she'd forced Edward to come along. No werewolf would have gotten the slip on him.

The dark figure - a tall young male - stepped out of the woods. Though he was still in human form, he did not look pleased to see them.

"We're not on your land, Fido," Rosalie said, pulling her head out of the vulnerable space under the raised hood of Bella's truck. If he chose to jump on that hood, slamming it shut while her head was in the way, it wouldn't kill her, but she still would rather it not happen. "Run along."

"Don't you have some cars to chase or something?" Emmett added, stepping closer to her protectively, even though both of them knew Rose could easily hold her own.

"Found the one I was chasing," the wolf boy said, with a snarky, sarcastic snarl in his tone. "Unfortunately, it's got vampire stink all over it now."

"Smelled yourself lately, bud?" Emmett snapped back. All three knew there was to be no fighting away from the treaty line, but that didn't mean they had to like it.

"Wait." Rose peered at him. "You know the owner of this thing?" She gestured at Bella's massive monster of a truck.

"Sure. Chief Swan's kid."

"You're her friend? Jake?"

"Jacob Black," the boy said, making it clear that Rose was not permitted to use the nickname. "I rebuilt that truck. It runs just fine. What the hell did you do to it?"

"Nothing that I can't fix in two minutes," she snapped back.

"Why'd you do it in the first place? Can't you leave that girl alone? She has enough problems without you adding to them."

Emmett's eyes narrowed. "You know something we should about Bella Swan?"

"I see no reason you should know anything at all about Bella Swan," the boy replied. "Are you going to let me fix that truck like I was told to, or what?"

"I'm perfectly capable," Rose said, and after a tense moment she returned to her position leaning over the exposed engine. "Not a bad job."

Jacob snorted. "Of course not."

"Oh," Rose said, "I guess I was just expecting to find hairballs in the coolant or something."

Emmett had to hide a guffaw behind a cough, which almost turned into a choking fit.

"Very funny. I guess I should ask if you're refilling the wiper fluid with venom."

"I was hoping you'd come up with something more original than that," she said, sounding very bored indeed. "Look, tell us something and then we'll go away and you can have the damn truck."

"What?" Jacob moved further out of the swirling shadow of the wind-tossed trees, into the slightly-less-dark shadows of the unlit parking lot.

"Bella's father. Does he...?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Rose swore she could hear perhaps the smallest hint of amusement in the mutt's voice. "You don't waste much time on smalltalk, do you?"

"I don't waste time on anything," Rosalie told him, utterly serious. "If you know he's hurting her, why the fuck don't you do anything? I thought you were friends."

"Sure," Jake said with a noncommittal shrug. "I feel sorry for her and all. That's why I gave her the truck. It took a lot more time than what she paid me for, believe me. But what else am I supposed to do? My dad's thick with her dad. That's how we know each other. Plus, he's the fucking chief of police. Who the hell would I talk to, even if I wanted to tell someone? Besides, I'm not sure Bella would back me up. This has been going on ever since she was a little kid. Every summer and Christmas break, when she came to visit, regular as clockwork. She never said anything before now. What makes you think she ever would?"

"Isn't there anything you could do?" Emmett demanded. Rose put a hand on his arm. Even without looking, she knew the fierce look of rage that would be playing across his features.

"Like what?" Jacob demanded back. "I'd marry her if she asked me to...get her out of that house, you know? But I don't really want to. I wouldn't do it unless she asked."

"Why not?" Rose felt a strange indignation welling up inside of her, almost as if this dog had insulted a family member. "Why wouldn't you - why wouldn't anybody - want to marry Bella? She's a sweetheart."

"Sure," Jacob allowed. "But she's not from my tribe. I  _dig_  being a wolf, you know. I believe in what we do." His smile was malicious, letting the Cullens know that what they did was kill vampires. "I want my son, when I have one, to grow up to be one, too. And the best way to ensure that is to marry within my tribe. It's the closest to a sure thing I can get. So, yeah, I'd marry Bella to get her out of there if I had to. If she asked me, and everything. But I don't want to do it just to marry her."

"You don't deserve to call her a friend, then," Emmett growled. Rose tightened her hand on his arm in sympathy, though his words were fairly ridiculous. There was no reason to think the mutt was a bad friend just because he didn't want to marry the girl. But he was seriously lacking in imagination if he couldn't think of any better option.

"Just what do you care about it, huh?" Jacob demanded, folding his arms and watching them suspiciously. "What the hell is she to you, besides a snack? Bite her, I dare you. My pack's itching for a fight, and I can almost assure you that Bella wouldn't mind dying for a good cause." His smile was bitter, and utterly devoid of humor. "We don't think you can do it, you know. Refuse your killer instincts. It's only a matter of time, and then we'll drive you out of town. You can bank on that."

Rose snorted. "Please, little doggie. We favor Swiss banks, thank you very much." She pulled away from Bella's truck and waved that it was all his now. "If you can't fix this by the morning, let me know now so we can pick Bella up for school."

"Oh, I'll get it done," the boy said, scorn dripping from his voice.

There seemed to be no more to be said. Rose stared at him for another long minute. It was hard to judge his looks fairly when she couldn't stand the rank, animal smell of him, but she thought it was possible he might be good-looking. He had a baby face, smooth and innocent, even when he was trying to look menacing. Rose was willing to bet that he hadn't been a wolf long. Idly she wondered about this boy's father - what sort of man would be friends with a demon like Forks' chief of police and yet produce such a sweet-faced son. She supposed that it didn't really matter all that much - Jacob was not likely to be much of a problem, but neither was he any help, aside from confirming what Rose already pretty much knew: Bella was being hurt by her father and no one cared enough to help her.

"What now, babe?" Emmett asked as soon as they were safely out of werewolf earshot.

Rose slid into his arms and let him hold her, let her body thank him for his presence and his support, though she had not needed his protection from the wolf pup. Emmett welcomed her touch gladly, and she knew him so well that she could picture the exact moment his dimples appeared as she kissed him, even with her eyes closed.

"Do you need to hunt?" she asked as she pulled away. She hadn't expected fixing Bella's truck to take long, but she'd expected it to take a little longer than it had, what with Jacob's interruption. Now they had the whole night before them. Suspecting that Edward was watching Bella's window from that damned tree, she didn't think it was necessary to return to the girl's house. If anything happened, Edward would let her know.

"Not animals," Emmett said with a smile she knew very, very well. It wasn't devious exactly, but it did hold a great deal of sly fun.

"Huh," she said, playfully scoffing as she pulled herself out of his arms, "as if you could catch me."

Emmett lunged, but Rose was too fast for him, and she darted into the forest with her husband on her heels, his laughter swallowed up by the wet trees. They simply ran for the sheer joy of running, their movements swift and sure, the trees no more than a blur as they flashed by. Eventually Rosalie knew she would let Emmett catch her - maybe under a particularly thick-branched tree, or in a cave, though the Olympic peninsula was not particularly well-endowed when it came to caves. They'd have to head up into the mountains for that, and she didn't know if she really wanted to do any heavy climbing that night. She liked outdoor sex, liked the feel of pine needles or grass under her back or against her legs, but she didn't like the wet. Stripping out of, and then climbing back into, wet clothing was an impossible hassle, and to her mind it wasn't worth it. Not even for Emmett's sake. If she couldn't find a dry space by the time she was ready to be caught, they'd just have to head home. Emmett wouldn't mind. He'd take sex anywhere - and just about any time - he could. Outdoors or in, it was all the same to him.

They ran for what seemed like hours - and, Rose figured, it likely was. She skirted the rocky shores of Puget Sound, sliding easily through the shadowed corners of more illuminated, populated areas. Once someone's guard dogs scented her and began to bark. Then they caught wind of Emmett on her heels, and the combined smell of two vampires hushed them. That amused her, though it also made her just a little wistfully sad. Even animals that weren't generally prey were afraid of vampires. This meant that even little carnivores like cats and dogs could never be happy pets in the Cullen household. That was part of the loneliness of being a vampire - no children, no pets, and the knowledge that any human bonds you made were transitory. You could watch your high school classmates grow old and die, while you remained as young as you were the day you met.

But Rosalie pushed her morbid thoughts aside, refusing to let herself sink into the morose mood they brought. Tonight was for enjoying one of the benefits of being immortal - power, and strength. It was such a rush, knowing what a powerful man labored behind her, trying to catch her, and knowing that she was a match for him. A perfect match, even. He was stronger, but not by much, just as she was faster...but only a little. His easygoing nature was a perfect foil for her prickly personality. And they were well-matched when it came to passion - Emmett couldn't keep his hands off her, and she never wanted him to. Decades together hadn't dulled that fevered edge, and she was glad of that. If she ever tired of Emmett, or he of her, she didn't know what she would do. Though Carlisle was always reassuring them that that just wasn't possible for vampires, she couldn't help but worry sometimes. Constantly hearing about human relationships going south gave her that worry, and she did her best to tune it out, telling herself that human reality TV had about as much relevance for her as wildlife documentaries did to normal people - none.

Not finding any spot terribly conducive to trysting, Rosalie heaved an inward sigh and turned homeward again. She gauged her distance from Emmett carefully, letting him get within a finger's breadth of her before pulling ahead again, keeping him guessing. Every once in a while she heard him mutter either a curse or a laugh; he was enjoying himself almost as much as she was, by the sound of it.

Suddenly, Rose caught a scent she had not expected. It was just a whiff on a passing gust of wind, and she was past it almost before it registered. Surprised, she veered in an arc, turning to try to catch it again. There. She scented it again, another whiff. No stronger. Curious, she slowed her steps and held up a restraining hand to Emmett. He pulled up behind her, settling his hands on her hips and burying his head in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply.

"Not me, you oaf," she said, though her voice was gentle. "Smell."

He raised his head willingly and took a breath. "Human," he said. "So?"

"Honestly." Rose pushed him away, jogging carefully in the direction the scent came from. They were close to town again - she could see lights from some of the outlying houses, and they'd crossed several familiar roads. "Is that really all you can tell?"

"It's a she?" Emmett shrugged, his mind clearly elsewhere. Rose had no difficulty guessing where, and she silently promised him that she wasn't purposely changing the subject on him. They'd get back to what they'd been doing...she just had to check on this, first.

Though the scent had been getting progressively stronger, Rosalie hadn't expected to find her quite so soon. The wind was doing strange things to her sense of smell, whipping scent-tracks around in confusing patterns. She almost tripped over the girl, who was curled on her side, sopping wet and very still.

"Well, shit," Emmett murmured, peering over Rose's shoulder. Bella Swan's skin was whiter than marble, and there was an awful lot of it showing. She lay in a wet pile of leaves, her closed eyes looking like bruises against her white face, wearing only a pair of saturated boxer shorts and a dirty sports bra.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

"What do we do now?" Emmett shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking intensely uncomfortable.

Rose stepped away from the girl's wet body and snapped open her phone, punching the second number on her speed dial. "Alice?"

"No." An extremely irritated-sounding Jasper had answered his wife's phone, and Rosalie rolled her eyes. He had to know that she wouldn't be bugging them if it wasn't important, didn't he?

"Look, I need Alice," she said. "You can go back to whatever the fuck you were doing just as soon as I get some answers." Rose heard an aggrieved sigh, and some rustling noises as the phone was handed over.

"What's up?"

"Does that mean I can safely assume you don't know?"

It was Alice's turn to sigh. "It has to do with Bella, doesn't it? Because the only other reason I wouldn't be able to see you is the werewolves, and you're not stupid enough to break the treaty and trespass on their land."

"Of course I'm not." Rose glanced back at the girl, her deathly pale skin pelted by cold raindrops. "Look, I think Bella's hurt. We found her in the woods; she's probably unconscious. God knows how she could sleep through the rain like this, if not."

"God." Alice's voice was suddenly serious. "What should we do?"

"That was going to be my question to you. Do we take her back to our place and have Carlisle look at her? Do we take her back home, pretend that maybe she was just sleepwalking or something, but try to make it clear to that asshat she calls a father that we know what's going on? Do we try to wake her up? Just leave her here?"

"I can't see," Alice said, and Rose heard the unmistakable sound of Alice straining so hard she was going to give herself a headache. Jasper would  _not_  be pleased with her when she got home. "I think you should bring her back here."

"Why's that?" Rose asked, though that was what she really wanted to do, too. "Because you want to protect her, or because you think it really is the right thing to do?"

"That's not very nice," Alice said, and her voice held hurt. Rose rolled her eyes again; Alice had such tender feelings for a vampire. "How are those two different things, anyway?"

"Because," Rose said, trying to ease her voice into a gentler tone, "we don't want to overwhelm her and scare her away from us. Remember?"

"Yes, but - "

"I'm just afraid that if she wakes up in a strange house, surrounded by strangers, she might freak out really, really badly."

"And what if you leave her here and she doesn't wake up at all?"

Rosalie whirled around, cursing in her head as her nonexistent heart tried to burst out of her chest. Edward knelt by Bella, his head turned toward his brother and sister and his expression very displeased.

"Rose? Rose, what happened?"

"Tell you later," Rose said, not taking her eyes off Edward, and she ended the call.

Emmett sidled closer to her, his wary gaze also fixed on Edward. They watched as their brother put his hand out slowly and grazed just the tips of his fingers across the damp line of Bella's jaw. It was a tender motion, almost fearful, and so unsure. It surprised Rosalie to see Edward acting insecure at all - he always seemed so sure of himself. But not with this human girl. She watched him take a breath and hold it in his chest, steeling himself, and then slide an arm around the small of Bella's back, the other cupping the back of her knees. He cradled her close to his body, her weight negligible to his vampire strength, and stood. Her head lolled against his upper arm before she shifted without waking, curling unconsciously toward him. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and exhaled. An expression of pain flitted, quick as the beat of a bird's wing, across Edward's face.

"How could you?" Edward's voice was low. "How could you even think about leaving her here?"

"Ed, she doesn't trust us," Emmett said, trying to reason with him.

"Rose spent the better part of the afternoon trying to explain to me that convincing her we can be trusted is the best thing we can do right now. Here's a perfect opportunity, and you don't even have to break her truck to do it." His voice held the edge of sarcasm.

Nobody said anything for several long moments. Rose glanced at Emmett, whose usually jovial face was solemn - even his dimples were nowhere to be seen. She turned her attention back to Edward, studying her brother carefully. Bella looked worse in his arms than she had on the ground, if that were possible. Her skin had an unhealthy blue tinge to it that made it look almost paler than Edward's, and her frame was so small, her body so limp as he held her. Mud streaked her limbs, and bits of rotting leaf and other motes of forest detritus clung to her wet skin. She wasn't shivering, and though Rosalie knew little about first aid, she thought that probably wasn't a good thing for someone soaked to the bone on a raw, wet, windy night. Edward's eyes were hooded as he watched the girl in his arms, his face an unreadable mask, but his grip on her was impossibly gentle.

"Okay," Rose said finally. "Let's go home. But you're the one taking responsibility for this, brother mine. If she decides to get mad at you, or scared, I want her opinion of  _me_  to remain intact."

Edward looked at her for the span of several human heartbeats. With no other indication that he had either heard or agreed, he was suddenly gone.

"C'mon, babe," Emmett said, slinging an arm around Rose's shoulders and following where their brother had gone. "If nothing else, tonight will be pretty interesting."

"Interesting, my ass," Rose muttered as they set off again, at a slower pace than Edward but still far faster than any human could ever run.

"That's pretty interesting, too," Emmett agreed, earning himself a punch in the shoulder before Rose heightened her speed, heading toward home.

* * *

Edward ran like he had never run before. Not  _faster_ , but different. It was difficult trying to keep up a pace that was both fast and steady, while holding delicate cargo and trying not to jostle her. He didn't know what would happen if she woke up while he was running, and he just tried not to think about it. The most important thing was getting her somewhere safe, somewhere warm. Carlisle wouldn't mind looking at her, he hoped, and he was sure Esme would be happy to open her home to someone who needed help. And if anyone needed help, it was Bella tonight.

He'd gone to her house around midnight, as usual, but immediately knew that something was wrong. While her room held the wafting reminder of her scent, it was clear that she wasn't actually there. He'd eased the window open and slipped inside her house for the first time, looking for any clues as to where she might be. The godawful sound of her father's snores made Edward secure enough that he stole through the house, but found no sign of her. He knew perfectly well that there was no way she'd be sleeping over at a friend's house, so her disappearance worried him. If she'd been at the hospital, he was almost sure he'd know through the family grapevine by now. So if she wasn't home, wasn't with a friend, and wasn't at the hospital, chances were that she was lost, for whatever reason. Whether it was an accident, a runaway attempt, or something more sinister didn't really matter all that much at the moment. What mattered was finding her, and making sure she was okay.

He'd left her house, meandering through her back yard, filling his lungs with deep breaths to try and catch her scent. The wind and rain didn't make this easy, and he'd finally resorted to methodically criss-crossing the woods while breathing deeply and searching for the unique, heady smell that was Bella. He'd find snatches of it here and there, but no clear trail. What he did stumble onto, almost an hour later, was the clear scent trail of Rosalie and Emmett, and he decided to follow it. If he caught up with them, that would be three pairs of eyes (and nostrils) looking for her.

Finding the three of them had been one of the best and worst moments of his life. He hadn't known just how worried he'd been until he breathed the fresh, living scent of Bella and saw the glimmering outline of her body against the dark forest floor. Relief turned to fear almost immediately, though, when he'd seen how pale she was, and how wet. What the hell was she doing unconscious in the middle of the cold, dripping woods, anyway? Anger blossomed in his chest when he heard Rose debating with Alice on the phone about taking Bella home. Of  _course_  they would take her back home with them; what the hell else could they do? He wasn't returning her to her father's house if there was a chance she'd been trying to run away - though why she'd done so with no possessions, wearing only underwear, he didn't know. She had to be smarter than that. And Rose's idea to just leave her where she was? That wasn't going to happen; it just wasn't. So if Rose didn't think taking Bella to Carlisle was a good idea, Edward figured he'd do it himself.

He knelt next to her limp form, hearing her heartbeat but a little afraid just the same. Carefully he touched her cheek, the lightest brush of his fingers against her skin. It was impossibly soft, but also cold - cold even to him. She didn't stir at his touch, so he braced himself and slid her into his arms. Her presence overwhelmed him immediately, especially when he stood and, without waking, she curled more securely against him. It was a sweetly innocent gesture, but it flooded his body with warring desires, and he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold them off. The bloodlust was still there, though he was learning that when Bella was hurt or in trouble it took a backseat to the deeper desire to help her. But then there was the other desire, and that was the one that scared him the most. Being so near her, actually holding the small weight of her, her skin against his, made his body ache for her. It was this desire more than any other that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to control, and he took off toward his house without waiting for Emmett or Rosalie, wanting her safe - from him as well as from the elements - as quickly as possible.

Edward slid through the forest at the back of his house, jumping lightly over the small stream flowing through his back yard, and burst through the back door. No one was in the kitchen - not a big surprise - and he rushed up a flight of stairs, depositing Bella on a bed in a guest room. He felt a strange reluctance to let her out of his arms, but pushed it away. Whatever it meant, it couldn't be as important as finding Carlisle and making sure she was all right.

As soon as he thought his father's name, Carlisle was beside him.

_It's okay,_  Alice said in his head,  _I saw you reach the house. How is she?_

It was strange that sometimes his family would ask questions nonverbally when they weren't in the room, though they certainly couldn't hear his thoughts if he tried to send an answer back. Normally it amused him, but not tonight. He was too worried about the pale girl lying still as death on the dusky gold comforter in the guest bed.

"So this is Isabella Swan?" Carlisle said, setting down his black bag and reaching for her wrist. He touched two fingers to the delicate inside of it, counting while looking at the watch on his other arm. "Slow," he said, as much to himself as to Edward, "but steady. Where did you find her?"

"In the woods," Edward managed to bite out between angry, clenched teeth. "She wasn't in her room, so I went looking."

If Carlisle thought there was something odd about his son checking up on a human girl's nightly whereabouts, he said nothing. That was one of the things Edward appreciated about his father - he knew when to pry and when to leave well enough alone. "It's cold out there," the elder Cullen said instead.

"Forty-four degrees, rainy, with wind gusts up to thirty miles an hour."

"And this is all she was wearing?" Carlisle eyed the drenched, filthy boxer shorts and sports bra.

"Yes." Edward wondered what his voice sounded like to Carlisle. To him it sounded tight and anxious.

"What in the world was she doing?" It was a rhetorical question, since there was no way Edward could answer it. He remained silent, watching his father bring out a stethoscope to listen to Bella's heartbeat and respiration, then carefully examine her head with gentle fingers to feel for any trauma. "Ah," he said, finding a sensitive spot on the back of her skull that she flinched away from, even in her sleep.

"Concussion?"

"We won't know until she wakes up." Carlisle's voice was smooth, and immensely soothing. Though Edward knew that it was a voice developed through long practice, a voice meant to ease the tension of patients and their families, he still felt better when he heard it. "I'd like to take her back to the hospital for a more thorough examination, but..."

"But what?" Edward asked when his father trailed off.

"But that might cause problems we don't want," Carlisle finished, eyeing his son carefully.

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that she's a minor, and if we take her to the hospital we have to notify her father."

Edward was silent for a moment. "Rosalie told you what she suspects, didn't she?"

"Yes, I did," Rose said, stepping into the room. Both she and Emmett were wet and windblown, but their eyes glittered with the exhilaration of running at vampire speed. "I wanted to know if there was anything suspicious in her medical files, and who better to ask?"

"Was there?"

Carlisle shrugged. "Plenty of circumstantial evidence - records of injury going back years. But the official story is that she's terribly clumsy, and no one has raised any suspicions to cast doubt on it."

"Isn't that evidence enough for suspicion, right there?" Rose demanded, pointing at Bella's body. In the lighted room they could see what had been hidden even from their vampire sight in the dark, cloudy night. Her skin was riddled with scars, half-healed cuts and bruises of varying size and color. It couldn't possibly be all from one or two uncoordinated maneuvers - no, this was evidence of something that happened on a regular basis, whatever it was.

"What's that?" Edward asked, wrinkling his nose at a strange, scabbed-over spot on her hip, just above the rolled-down waist of her boxer shorts.

"A burn," Carlisle said darkly. "And unless she managed to fall on a lit lighter or something - "

"I saw it in the locker room the other day," Alice said quietly, peering from behind Emmett's bulk. Terrific, Edward thought, seeing the top of Jasper's blond head in the doorway. All they were missing was Esme. "She said it was from an accident with a curling iron."

Carlisle shook his head. "A curling iron couldn't do this - not unless she purposefully held it to her skin for a while. No, an accidental burn with something like that will never look this bad. People have pretty good reaction times when they're getting away from unexpected pain."

"Just playing devil's advocate," Emmett said, almost a little hesitantly, "but what if she's like...well...into shit like that? You know, like, what if it isn't her father and it's consensual or whatever?"

Edward thought back to her response to the alcohol solution hitting her arm in biology that afternoon. "No," he said with clear-cut conviction. "No, I've seen her hurt herself. Trust me, she doesn't get off on it."

"But maybe in the right situation - "

Emmett didn't get to finish his sentence. Bella stirred, moving slightly on the bed. Her head shifted, and she let out a small whimper as the sore spot pressed against the pillow. Everyone immediately snapped their mouths shut, and most of them shrank out of the room. Edward and Carlisle stayed. Bella subsided again, not waking, and that was how Esme found them thirty seconds later.

"I thought I heard - " She stopped, a surprised hand coming to cover her mouth as she caught sight of the girl on the bed. She crept closer, not taking her eyes off of her. Bella was still deathly pale, and the marks on her body were clearly visible.

"Sweetheart, maybe you shouldn't..." Carlisle started, but Esme waved his concern away.

"This is Isabella," she said, her voice barely registering even to Edward's heightened senses.

"Bella," he told his mother gently. "She likes to be called Bella."

"Of course she does," Esme said, her voice gaining a little warmth. She sat on the edge of the bed where Carlisle had been, facing the sleeping girl. "Poor thing. She's so pretty, too. What else would a girl with a sweet face like that be called?"

Edward had no answer for that, so he kept still.

"She's not going back to whomever did this," Esme said. It was a demand more than a statement - certainly not a question.

"Unfortunately," Carlisle told his wife gently, "that's up to her. We'll do what we can, but we can't kidnap the girl."

Edward wouldn't have been at all surprised if his mother argued with that, but she said nothing. Her hand reached out slowly and grasped Bella's, holding it tightly. "She's so cold."

"Yes," Carlisle agreed. "Hypothermia can set in quickly when it's wet; we should really be trying to wake her, get her warm again. I can't tell if the unconsciousness is due to that, or to the head trauma."

"What hit her?"

"Probably the ground," Edward said gently. "She's pretty uncoordinated, or so everyone says. If she'd been hit by someone else, it's not likely she'd have been able to get so far into the woods before being knocked out."

"Very true, son," Carlisle said with a grin. "Sometimes I forget that you've gone to medical school. We should paint some wrinkles on your face and let you practice."

Edward grimaced. He didn't like touching humans, generally, and he really disliked the heavy chemical smells of hospitals. "I'd rather stay in high school for eternity," he said, which earned him a laugh. Everyone knew he hated high school and longed for the years he could spend in college and graduate school instead.

Bella shifted again, but did not wake. Esme squeezed her hand with maternal sympathy. "Poor baby," she crooned. "Carlisle, we have to help her."

"We'll do what we can," he assured her. "Unfortunately, that's somewhat limited by what she'll let us do." He touched his wife's shoulder softly. "We can soothe her physical hurts, but emotional ones are harder. Especially if she's too afraid to tell us who's doing this."

"But can't we - "

"Not unless she says we can." Carlisle's voice was quiet, regretful. "If she came to me in a professional manner, at the hospital, I'd be required to fill out a suspicion of child abuse report and submit it to Child Protective Services. But since she didn't, I'd rather not. There's no telling how willing she'd be to admit to the abuse, and unfortunately, without a victim to press charges, the possibility of the accusation going nowhere is pretty large. And if her father, or whomever it is, knew there was an investigation, she'd be in even more danger. Right now the best thing to do is get her warm, let her rest, and see what happens when she wakes up. I know that's not what either of you want to hear, but it's my professional opinion."

Esme nodded, though she didn't look happy in the slightest. "You're right," she said, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Carlisle smiled and kissed her temple gently.

"Will you call Rosalie in to me?" she went on. "I want to get this poor girl into some warm, dry clothes and under the blankets as quickly as possible."

"Anything."

Esme sent Edward for an electric blanket from the linen closet. He went, not entirely willingly. He wanted to help, but didn't want to leave Bella alone. Still, he knew it was probably best to let the girls handle this part. She'd be mortified when she woke, if she learned he'd stuck around to see her undressed. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, and that feeling warred with his intense desire to help her. Seeing her, hurt and unconscious, made his protective instinct go into hyperdrive. He shook his head in frustration as he brought the blanket back to his mother and plugged in the control, setting it to a medium-high heat. He then picked Bella up in his arms again as Esme and Rosalie unmade the bed, throwing back the comforter and other blankets, tucking the electric one right over the Egyptian cotton sheets. He was then sent to switch out the damp, muddy comforter for a dry one while Esme and Rosalie dried Bella with a towel, using a damp washcloth to clean off the worst of the mud, and dressed her in some of Rose's never-worn flannel pajamas that were too big for Bella.

Carlisle had advised against trying to give her tea or anything else to eat or drink, in case she was suffering from hypothermia, so that at least kept Edward from being sent to the kitchen. He knew he was hovering, but he didn't care. "Shouldn't she be waking up by now?" he demanded of his father.

"Many things can affect the severity of unconscious episodes," Carlisle said, again using his smooth, comforting medical voice. "You ought to remember that, Dr. Cullen." He touched his son's shoulder, something he did not often do. "Exhaustion. Malnourishment. The extent of the injury. She hasn't been out long enough to worry yet. Just let nature take its course."

Edward wanted to respond that "letting nature take its course" just wasn't good enough when it came to Bella, but he swallowed the impatient words. Carlisle didn't deserve them; it wasn't his fault she was in this condition.

"Tell me again why we can't head over to her house and rough up her dad a little bit?" Emmett asked, poking his head in the door. He held a DVD in his hand; most likely he and Rose were settling in for the night.

"Because we don't know it's him," Carlisle replied. "Not for sure, yet. Wouldn't you feel a little foolish if you did that and then found out it wasn't really him doing this to her?"

"No," Emmett said bluntly, his tone grumpy as he pushed away from the door and ambled away down the hall. "I'd feel like I at least tried to do something."

Edward knew how his big brother felt. He settled his mouth in a grim line before glancing at Esme. "I'll take first watch," he offered. "You should go - have some time with Carlisle." He knew that seeing Bella like this was difficult for his mother. It brought back old memories of her past human life, cruel memories she didn't need to relive. This was why he knew Bella would always find help with Esme, but also why he felt guilty bringing her here. Esme was his mother, for all intents and purposes, and he loved her dearly. He knew how much pain Bella's presence brought her - not Bella herself, but the clear marks of beatings displayed prominently on her skin. He knew it also brought back the worst pain of all - the guilt about the child she had not been able to save. Though her son's circumstances had been different from Bella's, Edward knew that part of the maternal drive that drew Esme to her adopted children was the pain of losing her first child - her only real, biological son. For that reason, he didn't want to disturb Esme with Bella's presence any more than necessary when she was in such a beat-up state.

"No," Carlisle said, glancing up at his wife and son. "I'll watch first. I need to be nearby in case this unconsciousness deepens. If she becomes comatose, every second counts in getting her to the hospital." He settled himself in a chair and flashed Edward a reassuring smile. "I'll let you know if I need a break. Why don't you and your mother go hunting, yeah? Get some energy out. It'll help you be around her when she wakes up."

Edward knew this was sound advice, but he didn't want to leave Bella's side. He also felt nearly bloated with blood; at Alice's insistence he'd been gorging himself every chance he got, to try and keep his thirst under control around Bella Swan. He eyed Carlisle, and then Esme. She held out a hand to him and he took it, though he was still unwilling to leave Bella. He knew no harm would come to her under Carlisle's care. With that understanding, he reluctantly left the house again, Esme by his side.

* * *

Bella blinked. Her head ached abominably, but she had no idea why. She tried to think back - she'd cleaned the house, put her father's dinner in the oven to roast, and then...then... She winced a little, remembering. He'd come home and handcuffed her to his bed for several hours, directly in the path of the cold, rainy wind blowing in through the window, while he watched whatever the hell game was on TV that night. He'd stumbled back upstairs drunk, in the dark, and it was clear he'd forgotten all about her. He grunted in surprise when he found her, and it had taken him several tries to fit the stupid key in the cuffs and set her loose. After that, he'd taken her downstairs, painfully wrenching her elbow on the way, and thrown her out the back door, telling her that if she couldn't learn to stop inconveniencing other people, she'd have to experience being inconvenienced herself. The night was achingly cold and wet - forty-something degrees by the back yard thermometer. It wasn't like it was forty  _below_  or anything like that, she knew. Still, she was stuck outside in the rain, and had no idea what the wind chill factor might be. And people who lived in places where the temperature hit forty below zero didn't spend much time outside in their bare feet, wearing only boxer shorts and a sports bra.

He'd never done anything like that to her before, that she could remember, but, then, he always did try to be creative. She remembered feeling vague panic; she was an Arizonan and wasn't used to weather like this. She didn't know anyone who might take her in for the night - not in town, anyway. Several families on the rez might, but they were too far away to even consider. The police and fire station were not viable options, either, because officials would ask questions and she couldn't tell the truth or come up with a plausible lie. Not one that would let her spend the night in a warm lobby or something, anyway. If she claimed a bad decision with a boy left her in this position, the police would simply take her home. Then she'd be in an even worse situation. No, there was no one she could go to for help. She remembered panicking and rushing into the woods, vaguely hoping for a dry place under a tree or something similar where she could curl up and wait out the night. She'd tripped countless times, her hands scrabbling over wet moss and dirt and gravel, trying to right herself. Finally she remembered hearing a strange noise - almost like running feet, but far faster than any human could go. She'd whirled in the direction she thought the sound was coming from, felt a searing pain in her head as she whacked it hard against a tree limb she'd just ducked under - and who did something that stupid, she wondered - and that was it. Nothing else.

"Bella?"

Her eyes flew open, wincing against the light. It was an unfamiliar male voice, low and silky. She found herself staring into amber eyes - the same amber eyes that Rosalie, Alice, and Edward had - though she did not recognize the face in which those eyes sat. Feeling panic instantly erupt in her veins, she tried her hardest to scramble out of the deep, soft bed she'd somehow ended up in.

"Easy, easy, sweetheart," the unfamiliar man said, reaching hands toward her, open-palmed, in a gesture of harmlessness. He did not attempt to touch her, which both surprised her and made her more willing to possibly listen to him. Well, that and the fact that she wasn't at all sure she could actually stand. Her head began to spin the moment she lifted it off her pillows, and she groaned a little as the pain intensified. Dropping back, defeated by her own body, she cracked her eyes open warily and watched the stranger through her eyelashes.

"Easy," the man said again, and held his arms where they were for a long moment, reinforcing the idea that he meant no harm. "You've had a long night, it looks like."

Bella continued to watch him warily.

"I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen," he continued, finally dropping his hands and leaning back in his chair slowly, another careful gesture meant to put her at ease. "You know at least some of my children."

So that explained the strange eyes...except, weren't all of the Cullen kids adopted?

"Rosalie and Emmett found you unconscious in the woods," he said, watching her carefully for a reaction. "They brought you here for some help."

_"I'm Bella," she finally dug up the courage to say. She coughed slightly; her throat hurt from too much crying and gasping earlier. "Isabella Swan."_

"I know," Carlisle said with a gentle smile. "Rose told me. They've all been worried about you."

Bella's cheeks grew two spots of pink. "I'm sorry for making people worry," she said, raising a hand to touch one of the telltale flaming spots. Her hands were cold, but that was only to be expected, she thought to herself. The strange thing was that the rest of her didn't feel particularly chilled. In fact, she felt almost...warm. She couldn't quite remember when the last time she'd felt  _that_  had been.

"Don't fret, please," Carlisle said kindly. "There's nothing to be sorry for. We're just glad we could help." He shifted in his seat. "Edward told me you don't like to be touched," he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. "Would you mind telling me, then, how you're feeling? Are you cold? Does anything hurt?"

Does anything hurt. Bella almost laughed at that. Everything hurt, but everything always hurt. That was her normal. "Not cold," she managed to say. For some reason, Carlisle didn't seem as threatening as most people did, particularly grown men. "My head hurts."

"Reasonable, all things considered." He smiled. "I know it's useless to tell you not to be afraid, but I really won't hurt you. I want to help."

When was the last time anyone had said anything like that to her? Bella couldn't remember. She found herself warming to Dr. Cullen almost against her will. He spoke with a slow, gentle tone that seemed like nothing could ruffle it, and every movement he made was measured and deliberate, as if trying not to startle her. She opened her eyes a little wider, though her head still hurt abominably, and regarded him a little more closely. He was a beautiful man - though that did not surprise her in the least, what with the rest of his family. As far as she knew, the only Cullen she had yet to meet was the mother. Alice had mentioned such a person, so Bella knew Dr. Cullen was not a single father. He looked far too young to be the father of teenagers, and Bella wondered idly what the state adoption laws were concerning age. She knew some of the other laws, out of necessity, but not regarding this particular topic.

"Bella? Here." He held out an open hand with two ibuprofen capsules on it, giving her the ability to reach out her fingers and take them carefully without doing more than brushing her fingertips against his palm. His hands were as cold as Alice's. "I'd like to give you something stronger," he said, handing her a glass of room-temperature water that had been sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, "but I don't think it's wise without knowing the extent of your head injury." He watched her swallow the painkillers, which she was glad to take, then took a little pen light out of his pocket. "May I?" he asked, and she nodded slowly. He turned on the light with a practiced little twist, and shone it into one of her eyes, holding a finger up for her to stare at. Her eyes watered at the bright light and her head hurt even more, but she tried to keep from blinking.

"Good girl," he said, smiling again. "It looks like you don't have a concussion, anyway. Your pupils are the right size, and your eyes are focusing nicely."

"Aren't you supposed to keep someone with a hurt head awake?" Bella asked hesitantly.

His smile changed from one of polite encouragement to a grin of amusement. "That's what everybody thinks," he said, patting her knee through the thick covering of blankets. Bella was surprised when she didn't automatically flinch away. But then, she reasoned quickly with herself, there were so many blankets separating him from her, and it had really only been one or two light pats. Hardly a touch at all. "No, no, it's an old wives' tale that's turned out to be very persistent. With head trauma, what you want to watch for are blurred or spinning vision, vertigo, dizziness, dilated or uneven pupils, difficulty focusing, and tingling or numbness in the extremities. That could indicate bleeding inside the skull, putting pressure on the brain."

Bella winced, wrinkling her nose. She hated being squeamish, but couldn't help it. The smell of blood made her sick to her stomach, and even thinking about things like that was apt to bring on a wave of nausea.

Carlisle chuckled, a gentle sound. "I have to agree," he said with a little smile. "That's why I'm a general practitioner. Couldn't hack being a neurosurgeon. Brains are a little...icky."

Bella let out an unexpected little burst of laughter. Hearing that word from the doctor's mouth was strange, but not unpleasant.

"Do you want some more water?"

She looked at the glass in her hand, surprised to see that she'd finished it. "N-no," she said slowly. "But thank you."

There was a moment of silence, and Bella glanced around the unfamiliar room, feeling her wariness return. She lay on a four-poster bed, propped against the softest pillows she'd ever felt. The room was painted white, with plush off-white carpeting, and there wasn't much else in the way of furniture, but everything was elegant without being overblown. Whomever had decorated clearly had very discerning tastes. Still, though the room was very pleasant, Bella felt a rush of uneasiness steal over her. She was in the house of a family she barely knew, and there was no reason to think they'd be kinder or more willing to help her than her own father. So what was she doing here? What did they want?

Carlisle heard the telltale speed of the girl's heart rate pick up, and he felt a little disappointment that fear was setting in again. Still, she'd really done remarkably well, he thought. She'd brushed his palm with her fingertips, and she hadn't flinched when he patted her knee. She'd spoken to him willingly - even asked a question instead of just answering his. He considered all of those positive steps, though he knew she was still extremely wary. Her fear would not dissipate in one short evening, though he did hold hope that she could overcome it, in time, with help from the entire Cullen clan.

"It's all right, Bella," he said softly. "Trust takes time. We'll get there."

"It isn't that I don't appreciate - " she started quickly, and he saw the instant flash of deep guilt in her eyes. He was glad Esme wasn't here to see that; it would cut her to the quick. "I mean, thank you. I just - "

"I know, Bella."

She swallowed, looking nervous and still in pain. "I think I need to go home," she said, moving to get out of the bed, a little slower this time. "Charlie...will wonder where I am."

Carlisle didn't want her to leave because of that head wound, but also for fear of what her father might still do to her if she went home. Still, it was her choice. He believed more than anything that people should be able to make their own choices about things. Bella was almost an adult by legal standards, and he wanted to treat her like one in this particular instance. He wondered when she'd ever been able to make decisions for herself without worrying about her father. He was suspicious of her mother, too, if Bella really had chosen to willingly come live with an abusive father. Wondering how wise the decision was, he decided to say something to her about the family's suspicions.

"Bella, Rosalie thinks your father is hurting you," he said quietly.

Absolute silence. Carlisle had no idea a human could be so still. She stared at him, and though her skin was naturally pale, it had turned completely white.

"Can you tell me, please, why she might think something like that?"

Bella was silent for several long, tense moments. Then she shook her head a little, stopping the motion abruptly when it obviously caused her pain. "I'm very clumsy," she said in a self-deprecating little tone. "I fall down a lot, and run into things. I've always got bruises. They know me at the hospital by now."

"Yes," Carlisle agreed. "You've got quite a hefty file for a teenager, especially one who didn't live here full-time until a few weeks ago."

Bella's white face suddenly flushed pink. Carlisle had to fight back an amused smile; these sudden changes in complexion were quite entertaining. She really was a pretty girl, he had to admit. Seemingly so delicate - it was no wonder she brought out Edward's protective instincts. She smelled tantalizingly good, too; he couldn't blame his son for his jumbled emotions regarding her. Still, none of these thoughts were helping Bella any.

She spoke suddenly, and her words were entirely unexpected. "Please," she said, her voice no louder than a whisper, "please. Don't get mixed up in it. I don't want to see you or your family hurt."

Her words stunned Carlisle. They were nearly strangers, and this girl was telling him not to get involved  _to keep him safe._  Would wonders never cease, he thought wonderingly to himself.

"What who is like, Bella?"

She shook her head, her face solemn. "I'm not stupid, Dr. Cullen, and I know what you're trying to do. I won't say it out loud. Please, take me home. It's better this way."

"Better for whom, sweetheart?" he asked. The moment the pet name slipped out he felt he shouldn't have let it, thought it had been a complete accident.

But Bella did not flinch away as he thought she might. She didn't seem to regard it at all. "Better for everyone," she replied, very seriously.

"Bella, where's your mother? Let me talk to her."

She laughed, which Carlisle also had not expected. The sound, unlike the sweet, surprised laugh of before, had absolutely no humor in it. "How am I supposed to know where she is?" she asked, and for a moment her voice was harsh and tired. Then she dropped her face into her hands, and her shoulders sagged. "Please," she said again, her voice muffled.

Carlisle sat quietly for several long minutes, warring with himself. The last thing he wanted to do was take this poor girl back to the man who beat her, the man she refused to name. But what else could he do? He decided to look in her medical file the next day and see if he could find a phone number for her mother. There was always the off-chance she'd be listed as an emergency contact or something. But for now, he had to do as she wished and take her home. If he didn't he'd be holding her against her will. He could only hope that if her father knew someone like the new doctor was suspicious, he might tone things down. For Bella's sake, Carlisle had to hope that was true.

"All right," he said finally. "Here's the deal. If you can stand, if you can get down the stairs by yourself, I'll take you home. If you can't manage it, you shouldn't be up. I don't want you falling down and hurting yourself any more."

"Deal," Bella said quietly, and began to slowly extricate herself from the mound of blankets Esme and Rosalie had piled on top of her. Not wanting to watch the painful process, Carlisle fled the room and waited on the landing, where he'd be close enough to catch her if she started to topple down the stairs, but far enough away that he hopefully didn't seem too threatening. He knew that everyone in the house would be upset with him when they learned that he'd returned her to her father's house. But what else was he supposed to do? The choice to leave had to be hers, and hers alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella stood under the shower in her father's house, trying to breathe very calmly and slowly so she wouldn't hyperventilate. She could hear him stomping up and down the upstairs hallway, the noise of his steps and his cursing audible even over the hiss of water and whirr of the bathroom fan. She hadn't had the courage to ask Carlisle what he was going to tell her father when he took her home, and they had to tell him something. She had no key, which meant they would have to wake Charlie up in order for her to get inside. Waking Charlie was one of the most dangerous things she could ever think of to do, but it was far better, she thought, than having him learn she'd spent the entire night at the doctor's house. Not only would she be in trouble for skipping out on her punishment, but the Cullens would be in danger if Charlie knew they were anything more than innocent passersby who happened to pick her up when she was lost in the woods. If he thought they suspected anything, she had no doubt about the lengths Charlie would go to, just to keep his secret. The Forks chief of police had no intention of looking at life from the other side of prison bars.

Grimacing, Bella shut the water off and stood dripping in the tub. Her head felt a little better once the ibuprofen kicked in, but it still hurt. Carlisle had assured her that it was perfectly safe to sleep, but she still felt a little nervous. It was strange, she thought as she reached for her towel with the least-sore of her two arms, but she didn't relish the idea of going to sleep and not waking up. In a situation like hers, she thought, it must be fairly normal for someone to not care about something like that. But she did. She didn't know why, but she wanted to live. And she hadn't spent her childhood bouncing between her irresponsible mother and abusive father only to give up now, when she was so close to being free. If living full-time with Charlie didn't kill her first, she was looking forward to getting out of this place. And she had to admit that that if' was a pretty big one.

Carlisle had behaved like a peach around Charlie, for which Bella could not thank him enough. He'd been casual and neighborly, as if merely returning a wayward child or pet. The excuse given was that Bella clearly must have been sleepwalking. Charlie, grumpy from being woken up, was barely civil to the doctor, but promised Carlisle that Bella wouldn't be bothering them again.

"She's no bother," Carlisle had said, putting a fatherly hand on Bella's shoulder. She'd flinched - not for fear of Carlisle, but because she didn't know what Charlie would do when he saw someone else touch her. His eyes had narrowed at her, but he said nothing while Carlisle was around. "She's become something of a friend of my daughters, I believe," he added, which was the one thing Bella wished he hadn't done. Leaving the Cullens out of the sick mess that was her life was the best thing to do, for her safety and theirs.

After thanking Carlisle again, Charlie had pulled Bella inside. Once the door was closed, she found herself pushed roughly against it, the back of her head hitting painfully. She only just managed to keep from crying out, knowing that Carlisle was still just on the other side of the door and would likely hear her.

"What, in the name of god, do you think you were doing?" Charlie demanded. His hands squeezed her upper arms, just below her shoulders, and as they squeezed they turned slowly, wrenching at the joints.

"Nothing," Bella gasped, feeling her knees buckle. He was holding her up now, her weight putting even more pressure on her screaming shoulder joints. "I must have been sleepwalking! Oh!" She gasped involuntarily when the joint he'd pulled out of the socket the other day threatened to pop again. He toyed just on the edge, not pulling it completely out but not letting up on the pressure either. "I didn't say anything," she pleaded, feeling hot tears begin to spill down her cheeks.

"You were supposed to spend the night outside," Charlie said. He grunted, squeezed her arms extra-tightly for one more moment, then abruptly let go. Bella slumped to the floor, leaning against the door. Her fingers tingled as circulation slowly began returning to her arms. She didn't know if she'd be able to move them anytime soon; feathery ribbons of pain shot from the tips of her fingers through her shoulders and up her neck to her skull, and her upper arms throbbed in synch with her pulse. "What the hell were you wearing when he found you, anyway?"

Bella shifted against the door, trying to find a spot that didn't cause lances of pain to shoot down her spine. She was still in the flannel pajamas she'd woken up with - no one had asked her to give them back, and while she didn't want to keep something that wasn't hers, she also really, really did not want to undress in front of the Cullens. "What you put me outside in," she said.

Instant fire spread across her cheek as his hand connected with it. It had been a truthful answer, but clearly not the right one. He kicked her thigh - the toe of his moccasin slippers was not as hard as his work boots, but it was hard enough to make her double over, grasping the pulsing limb and biting back the noises of pain that wanted to seep from her lips. Sometimes crying only made him madder, and sometimes he liked to hear it. It was impossible to tell which it would be on any given day, and so she preferred to try to stay quiet.

"You stink like someone else's house," Charlie said finally. "Go shower, and then get out of my sight. We'll have to discuss inconveniencing people again, I can see."

Bella tried to struggle to her feet, but her arms just wouldn't help her support her weight. Charlie heaved an impatient sigh and grabbed her hair in his fist, yanking hard. She yelped, unable to help herself as he forced her to her feet and almost threw her in the direction of the stairs. She stumbled past him - under the overwhelming scent of alcohol, she could smell the lingering aroma of pot roast, and her empty stomach started to complain. She tried to ignore it, her screaming head making it difficult to walk steadily. She felt the hard slap of a hand on her butt, and then a crude pinch. She squealed - Charlie spanked her plenty, both with his hand and with other implements, but this was the first time he'd done something like  _that_.

"Get upstairs," he said with another smack. "I'm sick of looking at your face."

Those words made Bella hopeful that he'd go back to sleep before she left the shower, but she could still hear him pacing now as she carefully dried herself. She slipped on some of her own pajamas - a gigantic baggy t-shirt that fell almost to her knees and a pair of boxers over regular underwear. She'd much rather put the blue plaid from the Cullens back on, but if her father caught her in them again there was no telling what he might do.

Busing herself brushing her teeth and putting a little moisturizer on her face while her hair got a little drier wrapped in a towel, Bella had time to worry. She worried about the Cullens. They had all been perfectly nice to her - all the ones she had met - and she didn't know why. It wasn't like she'd never had any friends, but here in Forks she hadn't tried too hard to cultivate any. It was too dangerous, she felt. Her father disliked her being close to anyone, and there was always the chance that someone would guess her secret. If that happened, she couldn't guarantee exactly what Charlie would do, but she did know that it wouldn't be good. He'd kept his secret for this long.

And the Cullens were good people. Alice and Carlisle, and even Rosalie. The two boys she hadn't met, and their mother, she couldn't say, but with family members as sweet as Alice and Carlisle, there was no way they could be mean. Edward seemed to be the black sheep of the family. Not mean, exactly, but...different. He wasn't open like his father and youngest sister. Nor was he a cream puff like Rosalie - hard on the outside but sweet in the middle. No, he was more complicated than that. She didn't trust him...but that wasn't unusual. Until tonight, she'd have said she didn't trust anybody. But she trusted Dr. Cullen. Worse, she liked him. And that was why she had to keep him and his family as far away as she possibly could. They were a nice, healthy family. They didn't deserve to get mixed up in all of her shit.

Her father's angry footsteps had ceased by the time Bella combed out her damp hair and left the bathroom. She peered into the dark hallway, but saw nothing. He wasn't snoring, and there was a dim light under his closed door. Clearly he wasn't sleeping yet, but he was on his way. Bella tiptoed carefully across the hall to her bedroom, trying not to make any noises that would remind him of her presence.

She closed her door before she snapped on her light, not wanting any telltale brightness to leak into the rest of the house, just in case. Turning, she slapped a hand over her mouth and nearly screamed.

Edward Cullen, golden eyes snapping with anger, was standing in her bedroom.

"What the hell," he demanded, quickly crossing to her, "what the  _hell_  are you doing here?"

In another lifetime, between different people, the situation might be funny, Bella thought. It was  _her_  room, after all, and he was the one demanding to know why she was there. But there was absolutely nothing humorous about the fury in his face, or the fact that her father was very much awake and there was a boy standing in her bedroom. Bella's still-aching head left her speechless; she literally couldn't answer him.

"Are you  _trying_  to get yourself killed?" he demanded, taking three steps closer to her, until he stood just a few inches away. His hand came up to hold her arm, but even though his anger was terrifying, the touch of his icy hand was gentle. He cupped her elbow, just below where the baggy sleeves of the oversized t-shirt ended.

Bella could do nothing but stare at him. His irate yellow eyes had her mesmerized. She couldn't look away. They were so beautiful and so frightening at the same time. She was rooted to the spot; she didn't think she'd be able to move, no matter what he did.

At least he was talking quietly, in a furious whisper that she hoped wouldn't carry across the hall to her father. "Bella? Isabella! Are you listening to me?"

She shook her head slowly, unsure whether that was supposed to answer his question. Her name in his mouth, even spoken in anger, sent a blaze of strange warmth tingling through her body. It was like a low dose of electricity that caused no pain but would not let her go, either. At the sound of her name, her eyes locked on his mouth and she couldn't look away.

Edward stopped demanding she answer him and stared at her for a long minute. He'd been looking at her the whole time, but now he stopped and really _looked_  at her. Bella couldn't explain what the difference was, but she felt it. Suddenly his entire body softened, and the anger flooded out of his eyes, though he still looked extremely tense. "Foolish little lamb," he whispered, and his voice, almost a croon, sent another shockwave of electricity through her body. His eyes searched hers, and she realized with a start just how close they were - his face was only an inch or two from hers. She felt her breaths rattling painfully in her chest, and then an explosion of delicious fire as he moved his head ever so slightly and kissed her.

Bella recalled the handful of kisses she'd received over her lifetime - clumsy attempts by boys in Phoenix, and the harsh demands by a couple of older men that she wished she could forget. Nothing had ever felt like this, though. Edward's mouth was cool against hers, and the strange, tingling warmth flowed from his lips through her bloodstream. He didn't touch her anywhere except her mouth, and one hand still cupping her elbow. She felt him exhale a held breath sharply from his nose, almost gasping against her lips as he pulled just millimeters away to inhale and then kissed her again. It was a desperate noise, and yet his body was perfectly gentle.

Not quite knowing what she was doing, and yet knowing she didn't want this strange moment to end, Bella reached up slowly with one hand and placed her fingertips against his jaw. He trembled under her touch, and she felt the same tingling energy pass through that touch. He moved his mouth slowly against hers, and she forgot to breathe. It was the most beautiful sensation in the world, her warmth meeting his cool mouth, a little wet, a little firm, but soft and smooth. His tongue licked her lower lip hesitantly, and Bella melted. She felt her knees quiver, and something she'd never felt before woke inside her body. It was as if the tingly electricity that ran between their bodies curled down into her abdomen and began pooling there, creating an ache, a tension that she didn't quite understand. She couldn't pay proper attention to it, couldn't think clearly, with Edward's mouth locked against hers.

Her knees quivered again and abruptly failed her. Bella tore her mouth away from Edward's bracing for the fall...but it never came. He swept her against him, his arms holding her upright. His body was hard, like ice or marble, and he smelled...he smelled like lightning, and the scent of old woodsmoke that lingered in the corners of closets that held camping gear. It wasn't comforting, but it drew her to him in a way she couldn't explain, even to herself.

"Bella, Bella," he said, and she could hear the raggedness of his breathing, feel the cold puffs of air against her hair and shoulder as he held her tightly to him. "Why did you have Carlisle bring you back?"

She didn't answer immediately, unsure whether she could trust her voice. She'd never voluntarily been so close to a man before, and her body was awash in new sensations. She also noticed that he'd called his father by his first name. It struck her as strange, though he  _was_  a foster kid - or was he adopted? she couldn't remember - and the Cullens seemed like the kind of progressive family that might all call each other by name anyway.

"Bella," he said again, and she closed her eyes, unwilling to step away though her legs were steadier now. "Come back home with me."

That got her attention. She looked up at him with wide eyes, and tried to pull away. He didn't restrain her, but she saw the sadness in his face when she stepped back.

"I  _am_  home," she said, and, inexplicably, the sadness in his face deepened. This was getting out of hand, she decided. The Cullens needed to keep away from her. She wasn't safe to be around.

"How can you - "

Edward's words were cut off by the door slamming open. Charlie stood in the doorway, and his grumpy, sleepy expression turned to pure rage as his eyes moved from Bella to Edward and back again.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

Bella blinked. That wasn't quite what she had expected him first to say. She turned away from Edward, standing between him and her father. She had no idea how he got in - they were on the second floor, after all - but she wasn't going to let her father hurt him if she could help it. It wasn't Edward's fault that he'd come to check up on her and her father happened to be awake. And insane, she added, seeing the angry, almost red glint in his eyes. That was how he'd looked when he'd found out...but that was over and done with, Bella tried to remind herself. No point dwelling on what couldn't be changed.

"The window," Edward replied, his voice bland.

"The hell you did."

"There's a tree." The nonchalant tone Edward was taking was not the way to handle her father, Bella knew. He stepped forward and she couldn't help shuffling back, away from him. Her back contacted Edward's hard chest, and she felt him drop a hand to her waist, which she thought was supposed to be a comforting gesture. She jerked away from it, knowing Edward had just made her father ten times angrier.

"Do you know whose house you're in?" Charlie asked. His voice was marginally calmer, which didn't bode well for Edward.

"Bella's."

"Edward..." Bella murmured, hoping her father wouldn't hear her warn him to be careful. It was a vain hope; Charlie's eyes immediately dropped to her, and his hand darted out, wrapping around her arm and yanking her away from Edward, toward him. Her back hit the wall next to him, and she grunted as all the breath was knocked out of her body. Gasping to refill her lungs, she tried to move to stand between the two men again.

"That is  _my_ daughter," Charlie snapped, brushing Bella aside with an impatient arm. "This is  _my_  house. I am the chief of police, young man, and you are in a world of trouble."

"Wrong."

Bella could only stare at Edward. What was he  _thinking_? Certainly Dr. Cullen had money, but did Edward really think that would protect him from Charlie?

"Edward, get out of here," she said, hearing the fear in her voice and hating it. "Please. Go. It's okay."

"It's not okay," Edward said. His tone was not quite calm, and she saw the fire of anger return to his beautiful eyes.

"Edward, is it?" Charlie said. He turned to Bella with narrowed eyes. "Edward who? Tell me!"

"Cullen," Edward said, before Bella had to decide whether to answer or refuse. "I came by to make sure Bella was all right after everything that happened tonight."

"Bella is in a huge amount of trouble," Charlie snapped back, as if she wasn't even in the room. "She is not allowed to date, and she certainly isn't allowed to have little boys in her room." His sneer told Bella everything she needed to know about how he saw Edward. The slim, sleek young man didn't scare Charlie, though how anyone could look at the anger in Edward's face and not be cowed, Bella didn't know. "She is going to be punished, and  _you_ , doctor's son or no doctor's son, are going with me to be locked up for breaking and entering."

Edward laughed.

Bella blinked hard, but the sight and sound didn't change. It wasn't an evil laugh, but a genuinely amused one. Despite the circumstances, she felt herself start to melt when she saw his broad smile, and the gleam of light on his very white teeth. He was going to get hurt because of her, and she couldn't let that happen. She moved away from the wall, heart pounding in her chest, and stepped between the two men again. She faced her father and tried to latch onto his arm to keep him from swinging it at Edward. "No, dad," she said.

He swore at her and jerked his arm away, then backhanded her cheek. She crumpled, and a terrifying sound met her ears. It was a feral growl, low and animalistic. She felt its deep tones almost as much as she heard it, vibrating in her bones like the boom of a bass drum. Blinking away the black spots that marred her vision, she stared in shock at the sight that met her eyes. Edward had one hand around her father's throat, and Charlie was in the air, his feet searching for solid ground. His face was red as he gasped for breath; his hands scrabbling at Edward had no effect.

Finally Edward opened his hand and Charlie dropped to the floor like a rag doll. His breath rattled in his throat, but Bella hardly heard it. Her eyes were full of worried topaz ones that were bent over her.

"He's all right," Edward murmured quickly, as if reassuring her that he hadn't permanently harmed her father. "He'll be fine. Are you okay?"

She nodded, feeling as if this entire night had been one crazy dream, and, for the first time ever of her own volition, put her arms around another person.

Edward picked her up easily, holding her against his chest. She regarded her father from Edward's height. He looked smaller than she'd ever imagined he could, sitting on the floor, staring up at the two of them as he caught his breath. She still hurt, and that was the only thing that convinced her she was not, in fact, dreaming. Charlie's eyes still scared her, even as he stared at her and Edward in utter confusion. She tightened her arms around Edward's shoulders just a little bit, and felt him squeeze her in response. He kissed her temple, his cool mouth soothing on her aching head, and then turned and walked deliberately down the stairs.

"Your jacket?" he asked, pausing at the front door.

Bella didn't respond right away. She stared at him instead. The lights on the main floor were off, but Edward was so pale that she could see him easily in the dim light of the streetlights coming in the windows. She raised a hand to his cheek and held it there, warm against cold. Then, not knowing what would happen when she asked the question, she looked carefully into his eyes and said, "What are you?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Edward froze. Bella hadn't thought anyone could be so incredibly still, but apparently he could. She looked at him, trying to keep an even expression on her face. After everything that had happened that night, she wasn't sure she'd be able to doubt anything that came out of his mouth, regardless of how odd it might initially sound. This boy who held her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, his skin so cold against hers - she'd seen him lift her father into the air with ease, dangling the larger man almost mockingly. It was a frightening, violent action...and yet...and yet...

Edward looked at her carefully. Her sweet brown eyes were calmly solemn as she watched him, but there was no judgement, no anger, and though she had every right to be terrified of him, she wasn't struggling or running away. On the contrary - she'd actually  _put her arms around him_. Completely voluntarily. What did that mean, for this girl who did not like to be touched? What did it mean for him? The sweetness of her warm breath brushed against him, and he stared at her slightly-parted lips for a moment. God, he wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to feel the tender, delicate warmth of her hand against his cheek, in his hair...

"Please."

The word, no more than a trembling breath, shattered the haze he'd melted into, and he blinked. "You can lie to me. It's okay. I promise to believe you." She swallowed and dropped her head, turning her chin a little as she averted her eyes from his. The movement allowed a dim wash of light through the window to catch her cheek. No human could have discerned any color other than shades of gray-blue in that dimness, but Edward saw the angry red, swollen mark the back of her father's hand had made against her supple skin. It filled him with a raw, despairing fury that he could not assuage, not with Bella in his arms. "Just give me - anything."

"No, sweetheart," he managed to bite out. "No lies. I'm sick of lying."

"I wouldn't question it," she said, her voice gently soothing, letting him know that he could, that it really was okay in her mind.

That she was attempting to comfort him after what she'd just gone through...Edward didn't know what to say to that. She was an amazing creature, this Bella, and the strange, protective instinct he'd felt nearly from the beginning began to morph, to pulse and grow as he held her in his arms. She met his eyes again, hers still calm and accepting. He wondered if she were possibly in some sort of shock.

The hesitant sounds of her father slowly beginning to move upstairs hit Edward's ears like a hangman's treading footsteps, and he tightened his arms protectively around Bella. "No lies, Bella. I need to know - do you trust me?"

"Yes."

The answer wasn't fervent, but neither was it hesitant. It simply was. Edward could do nothing but take it at face value. In this moment, where he held her safe from her father, she trusted him. In an hour or a week, that might well change. But he didn't need to know about next week - he needed to know about this very moment. "Then hold on tight," he murmured into her hair, opening the front door and striding out of it. He rubbed her head with his chin, encouraging her to tuck herself close against him. "It might help to close your eyes," he said, "but I won't make you."

With that he was running, running back home. It was a path he'd taken often in the past few weeks, from his house to Bella's and back again. He wasn't stupid enough to hope that this was the last time he'd have to do it, either. No, things didn't work that way. Even if he were a hero - which he didn't for one minute believe - he knew better than to believe that rescuing the princess meant happily ever after. There would be repercussions for what he'd just done to Charlie, of course. But he'd saved Bella from pain she didn't deserve, and in his book that was worth whatever price he now had to pay.

He slowed gently before stopping in his back yard, waiting for Bella's reaction and giving her time to collect herself before taking her back among others.

Though he didn't want to, Edward released Bella when she shifted against him, indicating that she wanted to be put down. "I'm not broken," she mumbled. "I can walk."

The latter was undeniably true, though Edward thought the first might well be debatable. It depended on what you considered broken, and whether someone capable of mending qualified. He set her on her feet, his arms hovering for a moment, spotting her in case she was a little disoriented after the run. Though she didn't know the truth about them - not yet, anyway - she really was taking this remarkably well.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Bella murmured, eyeing the brightly-lit bulk of the Cullen house with misgiving.

"Why not?" Edward wasn't sure quite what she meant - did she think it had been a bad idea to remove her from her father's house? Because he sure as hell didn't. In fact, he thought it was possibly one of the best ideas he'd had in a while. She didn't belong there. It wasn't good for her.

"This is the first place he'll come looking," she said, her voice dropping even lower.

"Oh." Relief flowed through Edward's tightened muscles.  _That_  made more sense. "It doesn't matter. I can keep you safe." He cursed the words after they were out of his mouth - he'd meant to say  _we_ , as in, the entire Cullen family. But the statement had been made, and there was no taking it back.

"I believe you." There was a hint of something in her voice...was it humor? Could she actually be capable of that, after all that had happened tonight? "But you shouldn't have to."

She was right but Edward knew enough to understand that it wasn't the way she meant. While Bella undoubtedly felt that he shouldn't have to be involved in whatever problems existed between herself and the demon who called himself a police chief, the truth was that  _neither_  of them should have to be involved. The situation should never have occurred to begin with. Parents were supposed to love their children. Those incapable should never become parents. End of story, in Edward's mind.

But life didn't work that way, and he knew that. And innocents like Bella paid the price.

The glass door leading into the back yard slid open, and Edward saw his sister's dark little head emerge. She smiled at them, a warm smile that was thankfully muted from her usual manic cheer, and beckoned. "You seem to like multiple showers in one night." Her laughter was light and welcoming. "Come in! Esme made popcorn."

Edward extended his hand slowly, watching Bella's face to see if it would cloud with fear. It didn't, and though she seemed to consider his offer for a long moment, she did eventually move her own hand and place it in his.

"Alice is right," he said, giving her wet fingers a little squeeze. "You're all wet again."

She shrugged, though he knew she must be cold, as she was inadequately clothed for the driving rain once again. He wondered for a moment what had happened to Rosalie's borrowed pajamas, but it didn't really matter. There were plenty more where those came from. He took a careful step forward, not wanting to release her hand but not wanting to pull on it either. The last time she'd entered his house, she'd been unconscious and it hadn't been her choice. This time, she had the option to walk away.

But Bella didn't. She readjusted her gentle grip on his hand and walked with him, stepping on the grass to the side of the rocky path that led to the door. With her bare feet, the gravel path would undoubtedly hurt. Edward wanted nothing more than to scoop her up again so she didn't have to walk on the wet, muddy grass, but she'd asked to be put down and he wasn't going to argue with her about it. Too much had been wrested from her already, and he never wanted her to feel trapped with him or his family. But that didn't stop him, when they reached the two steps up to the waiting Alice, from putting his hands on her waist and carefully lifting her over the rock, onto the smooth cement. He released her immediately, before he could tell what her reaction might be, and Alice's insistent hand had already latched onto Bella's, drawing her into the house.

Edward tagged along doggedly behind, determined not to leave her alone until he was sure Alice was calm enough not to frighten her. They entered the warm kitchen - Esme or Carlisle had clearly turned the heat up in the house - and found Rosalie and Esme lying in wait.

"Hey, babe," Rose said, and she handed Bella the blanket she was holding in her arms. With another person not so leery of touch, she or Esme would probably have opened the blanket and wrapped it around his or her shoulders. But not with Bella. Edward was grateful that Rose seemed so concerned with the girl's comfort level, and he felt a little ashamed to admit that he might well have acted otherwise. But since she'd walked into her room, fresh from the shower, and found him there, she hadn't seemed so loath to touch him. He didn't want to wonder whether this might be a lasting change, but he couldn't help it. When the stress of this night had worn off, would she still be so willing to take his hand?

"Bella," Esme said, interrupting his train of thought. She smiled, and it was such a warm, welcoming, maternal gesture that he saw an echoing smile flutter briefly on Bella's lips. "We haven't met properly," Esme continued. She shifted, her arms moving a little. It was clear to Edward that she'd wanted to touch the wet, shivering girl, to shake her hand or pat her shoulder or...something. But she'd stopped herself. "I'm Esme Cullen, mother to this motley brood." She drew Alice against her side, both to ensure the volatile little vampire's calmness and to show affection.

Bella's eyes met Esme's, and she was unsurprised to see the now-familiar golden gleam. What she wasn't prepared for, however, was the sudden wave of maternal concern and welcome that seemed to emanate from this elegant woman.

"Honey?" Esme's voice was gentle and warm. "Are you all right? What can we do to help you, Bella?"

Bella hesitated for two heartbeats, her mind racing faster, she thought, even than Edward could run. People weren't safe. Any one of them could turn into a Charlie in an instant; she wasn't stupid enough to believe he was a singularly unique entity. And Renee - well, Renee didn't hit, but neither did she hug. Not like Esme had just held Alice, with such warmth and love, though the touch itself had only been a single arm around Alice's shoulders. Bella was so cold, shivering and dripping on the gleaming hardwood floor of the Cullen household, and she ached for something warm. That smile, the liquid golden concern of her eyes...

Without quite knowing what she was doing, ordering her mind to shut up and stop warning her that this might be a bad idea, Bella stepped forward three paces and clasped her arms around Esme's waist.

She was cold, just as Alice and Rosalie and Edward were cold. Bella was prepared for that, though she didn't know the reason behind it. What she wasn't prepared for was the realization that Esme's soft-looking body was just as hard as Edward's. It wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but it was certainly strange. She pushed the thought aside as just one more irrelevant piece of evidence that the Cullens were not quite normal. What their secret might be didn't bother her. They'd been nothing but kind and comforting, and though these were abnormal experiences for her, closing in on a month in Charlie's house with no clear escape until graduation was just too much. Too much to handle on her own. And whatever their secret, these were good people. Whatever might happen in an hour, or tomorrow, or a week, they were offering kindness  _in this moment_. That was all she needed to know.

Esme's arms encircled her, moving slowly but firmly. The fear of being touched somehow didn't consume her - though she felt uncertain, she was able to push back the warning surge of panic. This woman with the sweet motherly smile wasn't a threat, she told herself as she let Esme hug her. The blanket Rose had offered staved off any discomfort from the Cullen chill, and when Edward's mother put her hand on the back of Bella's head - not stroking her hair, exactly, but holding her close - the cool touch actually felt soothing to the still-pounding headache. It was possible, Bella thought with the small part of her brain still able to function objectively, that the fact that the Cullens were so cold helped control the fear. Their touch didn't feel anything like Charlie's hot, moist hands. It didn't feel like anybody else's touch, either.

Edward watched in shock as Bella stepped willingly into his mother's arms, feeling the surprise of his sisters as well. Rose's thoughts were all of blatant satisfaction - happiness that Bella was safe, and that she'd clearly accepted Esme as a fount of comfort. Alice, whom they'd tried to keep in the dark about Bella's problems as long as possible, was pouty about that, and also that Bella was hugging Esme when she didn't even like Alice to touch her hand. But then Alice put a hand on Bella's shoulder, trying to share in Bella's soothing, and this time Bella did not tense or push her away. The snags and snarls in Alice's mind instantly smoothed, which made Edward crack a fond smile. She was such a simple person, and so easy to love.

Bella was not so simple, not by a longshot, but he still felt an uncomfortable amount of emotion when he saw her clasped firmly in Esme's arms. Esme gave her a final small squeeze and then released her. Her thoughts were plain to Edward: she wanted to be the first to move away, so Bella didn't get the chance to feel trapped or uncomfortable.

"Come on," Esme said gently. "Let's get you out of those wet things."

Bella's cheeks flushed. "Again," she mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Rose's voice was matter-of-fact. "Some of us have been there, babe. We understand."

Bella stared. "Really?"

"Really." Rose waved her toward the stairs. "We won't make you talk right now if you don't want to. But we'll listen when you're ready."

Everything was a blur in Bella's mind. Had the tall, strikingly independent Rosalie really said what she thought she'd said?

Bella climbed the stairs slowly, still achy and a little disoriented. Rosalie walked in front of her, Esme behind, and Alice took up the rear. It was a little disconcerting, returning so soon to this place she'd fled, fearing her father's retribution if he found out a family had harbored her during what was supposed to be a punishment. She shook her head a little, then grabbed for the banister as vertigo darkened her vision momentarily. Esme's hand touched her shoulder, grounding her.

She was still mortally embarrassed that she'd basically flung herself at this poor woman to whom she was a virtual stranger. But Esme hadn't seemed to mind. In fact, she'd put her arms around her in return, holding her close. It was exactly what Bella had always imagined a mother might do - a mother other than Renee, that was.

There was nothing inherently wrong with Renee; she wasn't cruel or sadistic. She wasn't Charlie. But she didn't do the kinds of things Bella had always wanted a mother to do. She didn't hug. Convinced that sugar and animal products, including milk and butter, were categorically unhealthy, she didn't bake, either. Bella had learned to cook out of necessity - Renee's idea of a balanced meal consisted of raw vegetables and maybe a spoonful of all-natural, sugarless peanut butter or a few cubed bites of packaged tofu. Child Protective Services had been called to their house when Bella was young, she remembered. Not because of anything Renee had purposefully done, but because Bella had been so thin and malnourished. Renee had been forced to attend parenting and nutrition classes, which explained to her that young children needed a balanced diet that included much more carbohydrate and protein than Bella ever received. After that, Renee had grudgingly stocked the kitchen slightly better, until Bella was old enough to take over the grocery shopping and cooking. She still favored the vegetables she'd grown up on, particularly since Renee always made stink-faces when she caught sight of cheese or bread or any kind of meat in the house.

For her birthday, Bella had usually baked her own cake. And if she wanted Renee to join her in eating it - and who wanted to eat birthday cake alone? - it had to be gluten-free, egg-free, and dairy-free. Bella didn't have a huge sweet tooth, but as a kid she'd yearned for the kind of cake her schoolfriends had at their birthday parties - homemade or from the bakery, it didn't matter; they were all moist, sugary, and delicious, topped with toothache-inducing amounts of frosting.

Bella's birthday had been last week, and it had passed without notice. Charlie certainly said nothing, did nothing. Renee didn't call or send a card. Bella was seventeen.

She stumbled, stubbing her bare toe on a stair, and winced, biting down a frustrated yelp. She hated her own clumsiness. Without it, it was possible someone might have realized that Charlie was not the bumbling but well-meaning father they thought. Without her own clumsiness, it was possible someone might have got a clue.

Rosalie whipped around to help steady her, clucking and shaking her head wryly. "So you really  _are_  clumsy?" Her voice gentled to a humorously commiserating tone. "Poor baby. Add that to the dickwad you call a father, and it's a wonder you're not in a wheelchair by now."

"Charlie doesn't - " Bella tried to say, but Rosalie cut her off.

"Cool it, babe." Rose's voice was tender. "There's no point in lying here. We know better."

Bella raised her eyes to Rose's unnatural, gleaming yellow ones, then turned to find the echo of that sincerity in Esme's concerned gaze. She blinked, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by all this attention. She wasn't used to it. Renee was too ADD to pay attention to anything but herself most of the time, and Charlie just plain didn't care. Attention from Charlie was always bad - always. She'd learned that it was best to find a nice corner in which to keep herself. It was safer that way. But here, in this house, it was impossible to hide. These Cullens - who apparently did not sleep, as it was pushing three in the morning and the whole house seemed to be up - did not let her hide. Bella shrank against the banister, wishing suddenly for some dark, quiet place. And just as that wish manifested itself, another one overrode it.

She wanted Edward. The shock of that realization hit her and she didn't know what to do with it. She'd never wanted another person's presence before - not a specific one, not like this. But Edward, for all his capriciousness, did not usher her around as if he knew what was best for her. He took her away from her father, but she'd as much as asked him to by putting her arms around him and letting him pick her up. And then, arriving back at the Cullen household, he'd let her down the moment she tried to wiggle out of his arms. It wasn't that she disliked or mistrusted his sisters or his mother. But there was something...something calming about Edward. She couldn't explain it, but there it was.

Bella looked behind Esme, hoping to see him, but he was not on the stairs and no longer in the kitchen. All she saw was Alice's sweet, hesitant smile. It was warm and friendly, and Bella couldn't help but smile back.

"I really am sorry," she mumbled, resuming the climb up the stairs. "I don't want to inconvenience anybody."

"Honey, we just want you to be safe," Esme said, her smooth voice calming against Bella's frazzled nerves.

 

_But why_

, Bella's mind asked, though she didn't voice the thought. It was too much to get into at three in the morning, after all that had happened. Tomorrow, maybe, or the next day, she'd be able to ask. If Charlie didn't kill her first.

 

 

Bella felt a little strange as she was ushered back into the room she'd left less than two hours ago, the three Cullen women hovering a little. Alice hoisted herself onto the high bed and sat cross-legged in the middle, watching the proceedings as Rose helped Bella remove her sodden pajamas. Esme stood ready with a soft, deep purple towel, which she immediately wrapped around Bella's thin, damp shoulders in place of the blanket.

"Are you cold? Do you want a shower, or a bath?"

Bella shook her head. She was cold, but she was sick of being wet and didn't want yet another shower. She knew that many girls loved baths, but she'd never really been able to relax and feel comfortable in one. Renee had no real concept of privacy, and would barge into Bella's bathroom in Phoenix no matter what Bella might be doing. And the thought of lolling in Charlie's bathtub was simply laughable. She kept the single bathroom as clean as possible, but that wasn't the issue.

"I don't mean to keep causing all this trouble for you," Bella mumbled as Rose and Esme rubbed her limbs through the towel, drying her.

"Then quit asking Carlisle to take you back there." Rosalie's voice was not unkind, but it was firm. There was no question that she meant what she said.

"It's my home," Bella said, though the words sounded false even in her own ears. Never had Charlie's house been her home - not during the summers and Christmas vacations she'd spent there, and certainly not now.

"A house is not a home." Rose undid the big buttons down the front of a clean flannel pajama top and held it out for Bella to slip her arms through. "It's just a place that keeps out the rain. Home is something completely different." Bella got one arm through the long, baggy sleeve without mishap, but she wasn't able to twist her other shoulder enough to reach the second sleeve.

"May I help?" Esme asked, her voice gentle.

Bella bit her lip and nodded a little, looking up into the liquid concern in Esme's eyes. She felt a little embarrassed still for practically pouncing on this poor stranger, but Esme had hugged her back as if there was nothing wrong with asking for a little affection. Now her cold hand cradled Bella's elbow and coaxed the arm behind its current small range of muscular motion and into the sleeve Rosalie held out. Esme didn't hurt her - there was just a twinge of protest in the hurt shoulder as it was pushed to move farther than it wanted to. Still, Bella knew from long experience that moving sore joints and muscles was the only way to keep them from seizing up and stiffening into uselessness. Unless there was a serious problem like a broken bone, she felt strongly that the best way to deal with an injury was to push past it as much as possible.

Esme and Rose let Bella button the shirt herself and pull her sodden boxer shorts and underwear from her body. They rubbed at her legs with the towel, murmuring when they found this or that bruise. Esme paused at the scabbed burn on Bella's hip, well hidden by the long flannel shirt but revealed when Bella's arm moved the fabric as she pulled down her boxers. "Has Carlisle looked at this?" she asked, holding the baggy pajama top away from Bella's skin to get a better look.

"N-no."

"Well, he should. A burn like that can get infected easily."

Bella smiled at Esme's concern. "It's okay," she said, feeling the overwhelming urge to soothe the older woman but not knowing how. "I know how to take care of wounds."

"I'm sure you do." Esme's voice was touched with tragedy, and it made Bella's gut ache. She didn't know why - what was it with these Cullens messing with her emotions? She dropped to her knees, matching Esme's position, and put her hands on her cold arms.

"Please don't be sad," Bella said, hearing her own voice small in the big, quiet room. "Please?"

"Oh, honey..." Esme took Bella's hands in her own and squeezed gently. "Why aren't  _you_  sad? You have plenty of right to be, you know."

"I am. It makes me sad to see you so upset." Bella felt an uncomfortable anxiety start to flit between the bones of her joints, making her quiver. "All of you. Why are you..." She swallowed and turned her eyes up to Rosalie standing next to them, watching. "Why are you all so  _nice_?" She shook her head, meeting Alice's pained face. "Why are you all so upset about this?"

Rose shook her head. "Wrong question,  _bé bé_. The correct question is why everyone else  _isn't_  upset."

"But - "

"No buts." Rosalie shifted her weight. "Got it?"

"But - "

" _Bella_."

"Rose, you're scaring her," Alice objected.

"I'm not." Rosalie stopped for a moment, considering, then glanced at Bella again. "Am I,  _bé bé ?"_

"N-not exactly."

Esme released Bella's hands and slid an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone has a past, Bella. Everyone has issues they're not proud of, whether as an active or a passive participant."

Bella stilled, thinking about that. She wasn't sure she believed Esme's words, though they were meant kindly. Under most circumstances Esme was probably right. But not with Charlie. Bella wasn't able to picture Charlie ever ruing something he'd done...unless it was having her in the first place.

"It's okay to be afraid. We understand that you can't control how you feel, sometimes." Esme's hand moved, stroking her damp, tangled hair gently. "Rosalie and I, we really, really understand."

"Does that mean - ?" Bella clamped her teeth together over the words, feeling an embarrassed flush hit her cheeks. She hadn't meant to pry.

But Rosalie didn't seem angry with her. She held Bella's eyes and nodded slowly, a fluid, solemn gesture. "I was left in an alley to die," she said, and the words were filled with such deadly calm that Bella couldn't do anything but believe her. "And Esme's first husband was a demon."

Bella turned questioning eyes to Esme, who nodded confirmation. "I lost my son because of him," she said. "Not outright - not in a way that could be tried as murder. But he was the reason that baby boy died a few days after birth."

Bella began to shake. It wasn't just the similar story, but the too-familiar pain in Esme's golden eyes, and in her voice, though it was outwardly so calm. There was a deep hole inside this woman that could never be filled, and Bella understood that completely. Not knowing what else to do, Bella bowed her head and rested it against Esme's shoulder. She offered the older woman comfort in the only way she knew how.

After several long minutes, Rosalie cleared her throat and - thankfully, thought Bella - changed the subject. "Look,  _bé bé ,_ I have to ask. What did Edward do when he was at your house?"

Instantly the memory of that pale fist squeezing Charlie's throat rose up before Bella. She swallowed carefully. "He saved me." She didn't know what else to say. Whatever was up with Edward, it was clearly a family secret. It wasn't like she was afraid to tell his sister and mother what had occurred. But it wasn't...saying that Edward had attacked Charlie didn't seem right, somehow. While it was literally true, it was also incorrect. "He saved me, and then he brought me here. He ran so fast..." She didn't know what else to say. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I was just trying to...I don't know. Keep you safe? Keep Charlie away. I don't want you all to get in trouble because of me."

"Oh, honey, don't worry about that." Esme gave Bella's shoulder a little squeeze.

" _Seriously_." Rose shifted again. "That should be the least of your worries. And since it sounds like Edward's already spilled secrets..." Her voice trailed off as she leaned down and hoisted Bella into her arms, carrying her into the adjoining bathroom just as Edward had carried her to the house. "Now, you have to wash your feet before putting pants on. They're an absolute muddy  _mess_."

Being strong-armed by Rosalie Cullen wasn't the strangest thing that had happened to Bella this day, so she swallowed her questions and let Rose stand her in the bathtub, removing the handheld shower nozzle and using to spray mud and bits of foliage from her bare feet and legs. Instead, she chose to argue Esme's last statement. "You don't understand what he's capable of." Bella reached for the showerhead in Rose's hand, but it was deftly pulled out of her reach.

"Just hold still, babe," Rose said calmly. "If you tried to stand on one foot in that slippery tub while washing the other, we'd have to call Carlisle in to treat you for who knows how many more injuries. It's okay to let someone help you when you need it, Bella. Let us help."

And what was there to say to that? Bella gave up and let Rosalie do what she wanted, instead listening to Esme.

"No matter what he's done," she was saying firmly, "we're still helping you. It doesn't make any difference to us, honey. Something tells me this has gone on for far too long. It's time to get the law involved."

"He  _is_  the law." Bella knew her voice sounded bleak; that was how she felt. There had been no point in telling people in Phoenix - Renee hadn't believed her, and nobody else cared. And here in Forks, Charlie called the shots. He was the boss, and everybody knew that. "And you're not taking me seriously. He killed my dog, okay? She was just a puppy. And he took - " Bella choked off the words, not wanting to go there. Not tonight. Not with these near-strangers, no matter how kind they'd been to her. Some things weren't meant to be shared. What good would it do now, anyway? What had been done couldn't be changed. Nothing could be changed.

* * *

Bella sat in the quiet of the Cullen guest room, alone in the dim golden lamplight. She'd left a bedside lamp on its lowest of three settings, preferring not to be in a strange room in total darkness.

The Cullens had been exceptionally kind, but now she could not sleep. Edward hadn't actually answered her question - nor had she seen him since he'd relinquished her to the care of his mother and sisters. While she supposed that was normal and for the best, a part of her still felt a little lonely without him.

And  _that_  was too confusing to dwell on, so she quickly attempted to change topics of thought. Esme had insisted that Bella try to sleep, and promised that they would talk more in the morning. She'd also stated that under no circumstances was anyone going to school the next day, though it was Friday. When Bella opened her mouth to protest, Esme had put a bowl of popcorn in her hands and shooed her back upstairs to the guest bedroom that had suddenly been dubbed Bella's.' Bella herself wasn't so sure she was comfortable with that idea. The popcorn was delicious and the bed was incredibly soft and warm, but she was very aware that she was in someone else's home, not her own, and there was something about that which always made her unable to relax.

A gentle knock on the door drew Bella from her revolving thoughts, and she felt a rush of both happiness and anxiety to see Edward open the door a crack and peer through it.

"Hi," he said, his silken voice a little hesitant. "Is it all right...can I come in?"

Bella nodded, feeling amusement that he hadn't actually asked if he could enter her real room, in Charlie's house, but he asked here, in his own. He slipped through the door and closed it behind him, gliding on silent feet to stand next to the bed.

The silence stretched between them, a little uncomfortable. Bella shifted against the mountain of pillows behind her. There were so many things she wanted to ask, so many questions between them, and she didn't particularly like it. But she was not used to starting conversations, and she didn't know quite what to say to this beautiful boy who stood hesitantly next to the bed. She looked up at him, and their eyes locked.

Instantly it was as if the building anxiety had been swept away. He pulled a chair next to the bed and sat in it, resting his hands on the top of the comforter, where she could see them. They were pale and beautiful, the fingers long and almost delicate.

"What do you play?" she asked suddenly, and found herself reaching out, tracing the line of his middle finger with one fingertip.

"Piano." His voice was warm and silken, and it smoothed down her spine almost like velvet. He turned his hand over slowly, so her fingers rested against the inside of his. It was almost like holding hands.

"I bet you're good at it."

A perfect, crooked little half-smile slid across his mouth. "I'll play for you sometime," he promised.

"I'd like that."

He still hadn't answered her earlier question about what he was, what his family was. And yet it didn't feel like he was intentionally being evasive, either. She was too tired to worry about it at the moment. All she wanted to do was sleep.

"Carlisle got called to the hospital. He asked me to make sure you were feeling all right."

"Sure."

His smile quirked. "Not a very specific answer."

"Sorry."

"Does your head still hurt?"

Bella shrugged. "Some. It's been worse."

"I'm sure it has." His eyes darkened a little, and his smile disappeared.

"I'm sorry," Bella said quickly, not knowing what to do other than apologize. "I didn't mean - "

"It's okay." He folded his fingers over hers, squeezing gently. That wonderful sense of electricity buzzed up her arm, and she shivered a little. "Look, Bella, I'm not good with...I'm just..." He ran a hand impatiently through his messy hair. "You shouldn't have to live like this. Afraid. You know that, right?"

She shrugged noncommittally, squirming a little inside. It made her nervous when anyone talked to her like that, but the intensity of Edward's eyes, the dogged determination in his features completely overwhelmed her.

He bit back an impatient noise, his hand tightening around strands of his gleaming hair. "I'm frightening you again," he said. "I'm sorry."

"You're not."

He looked up at her again, and Bella tried to smile. One side of her mouth curved up nicely, but the other faltered.

"I am," he said. "I can tell." He dropped her hand and scooted the chair back, away from the bed.

"No." Bella wanted to reach out for him again, but didn't know how. How did you stop someone from running away when you were usually the one in retreat? "I'm not afraid of you."

His head snapped up, and there was a wondering kind of confusion in his intense face. "You wouldn't say that if you knew."

"I know you have a secret." Bella swallowed. Talking was difficult when you didn't do it often. "Well, I do, too. I understand about them. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

He was silent for a long minute, studying her. The furious intensity was back, and he was not smiling. "Your father hurts you, Bella. That's no secret."

"You and your family are not normal, Edward," she retorted. Her voice shook, but she was holding her own. " _That's_  no secret."

A giggle from the hallway broke the swirling tension between them, and Edward heaved an aggrieved sigh. Bella watched as the door opened and Rose stepped in, looking anything but penitent. "Ed," she said, "you might as well tell her. She's smart, and she'll find out on her own anyway."

"It's okay," Bella said. She could feel Edward's discomfort - it was almost palpable. "He doesn't have to tell me anything he doesn't want to. None of you do. I understand about secrets. You don't have to tell them."

"You asked earlier." Edward's voice was deep and quiet, rumbling out of him. "You deserve an answer to your question."

"And you deserve to keep your secrets," Bella said firmly. She was feeling very satisfied with herself, because it seemed she might actually have won that argument. Neither Cullen sibling was jumping to contradict her. But then her satisfaction was ruined by a gigantic yawn.

Rose laughed, though the sound was not unkind. "It's the middle of the night. We'll leave you alone so you can sleep."

Bella did not miss the downward pull of Edward's mouth; he was displeased with Rose speaking for him. She couldn't dislike the mothering big sister, but she understood how he felt. "Right," she said, also a little reluctant to have Edward pulled from her side. "I've kept you up practically all night. I'm sorry, I really am."

"Don't be," Rose said coolly, with a smile. "We don't sleep."

With that, she left the room. Bella stared at the door, left slightly ajar. She heard Edward's irritated sigh again.

"And I thought it would be Alice I'd have to keep warning to shut up," he muttered, glancing at her. "Even when you said you didn't want to know, Rose still had to open her mouth."

Bella blinked. "You really don't sleep?"

"No."

"Not ever?"

"Never." He reached toward her slowly and ran one fingertip down a damp curl of hair. "Does that frighten you?"

Bella shook her head. It was odd, certainly, but nothing overtly frightening. If anything, she felt a little sorry for them. Nightmares were no picnic, but if they couldn't sleep, they also couldn't experience good dreams. The thought of Edward never dreaming was somehow incredibly sad.

"Bella?"

Her eyes immediately sought his out. She didn't think he'd ever said her name quite like that before - a hesitant sort of question. "I know you need to sleep, but I wanted to ask - would you answer a question if I let you ask one in return?"

Bella thought about it for a long moment before nodding. She didn't like agreeing to something before she knew what it was, but this was Edward. If he wasn't safe, nobody was.

"Why do you let me touch you?" he asked, and Bella scooted down into a more horizontal position as she thought about it. Almost offhandedly - though she didn't believe Edward ever did anything offhand - he drew the comforter up around her shoulders, tucking her more securely under it.

"I guess..." Bella thought for a minute. She didn't really know why - it didn't make any actual sense, after all. Not logically, anyway. "You and Esme and Rose...you're safe." It didn't make sense, but it was the best she had. "I trust you."

He stroked a hand down her hair, his smooth palm not catching and pulling at the strands as Charlie's did. This was a soothing touch. It was cool against her headache; nothing about it hurt. She blinked again, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over her now that the rash of difficult events seemed at an end.

"Your question?"

His voice sounded far away, though she still felt his hand in her hair. She could literally feel herself slipping backward into sleep, away from his calming presence, and she was too tired to fight it. "Later," she mumbled, and heard, for what she thought might be the first time, the low, sweet sound of his chuckle.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

"Bella's awake."

Esme turned from the stove to glance at Edward, who hadn't spoken. He shrugged and jerked his thumb in Rose's direction.

"I can hear her," Rose said, twirling a strand of blond hair idly around her finger. "Can I help it if you all are fucking deaf?"

"Language," Carlisle said absently, passing through the kitchen and brushing his lips across Esme's temple. He was just home from the emergency call and had to leave again soon for his regular shift. He didn't question why everyone was home late on a damp Friday morning, or why Esme was stirring a sweet concoction of simmering homemade oatmeal with plenty of brown sugar and raisins. The "kids" were all gathered at the dining table, greedily inhaling the smell from the kitchen. Though human food tasted like ash in their mouths, it still smelled wonderful.

"Edward?" Esme asked, returning Carlisle's kiss.

"No," he said, and he didn't seem to want to meet her eyes. "I can't hear her."

Silence.

"You can't  _what_?" It was Emmett, which Edward had expected, but he hadn't quite realized just how shrill the linebacker-bodied vampire could get.

"Christ, Em, you're not Alice," he said, rubbing at his ear.

"You want to run that by us again, son?" Carlisle said, peering back through the doorway.

"Just what I said," Edward said through gritted teeth. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to talk about anything, but especially things pertaining to Bella or his block when it came to her mind. "I can't hear her mind. She's a complete blank."

Emmett rose from the table, snorting as he laughed. He ended up leaned against the countertop next to the stove, and he looked almost like he was going to stick his finger in Bella's breakfast and try it. He'd done such a thing before, on multiple occasions. The hurt on his face when the end result was always the same never failed to make Alice cry (as much as a vampire could) and Jasper laugh.

But Edward heard now what Rosalie had heard beforethe sound of quiet human feet upstairs. He glanced at his big sister and she nodded, heading up to assist Bella to dress and come downstairs. He wanted to be the one to help, but knew that that wish was utterly inappropriate. So he repressed it. It was better than arguing with Rose, who had to know that he'd spent most of the waning night in a chair next to the sleeping human girl, keeping watch. Though god only knew what he thought might attack her in the Cullen household. Jasper seemed to be doing well as long as he didn't get too close to her, and she was safer with them than with that beast she called a father.

It didn't make any sense, Edward thought furiously as he heard the muffled sound of Rosalie's knock on the guest room door. This little human girl had managed to turn all of their lives upside down in such a short time - but his especially. At first he had been wary of her, and wary of his family getting too close to her. It wasn't safe to build relationships with humans like that. One way or another, it had to end badly.

But somehow he couldn't think like that in Bella's presence. When she was near him and he could watch the graceful way she held her head, the way her mouth moved when she spoke, all he wanted to do was stay by her side. Even away from her, now, he wanted badly to protect her from her demon of a father and whomever else might have possibly hurt her at any point. But that desire was tempered by caution, caution that just didn't exist when she was in the same room as he. Caution because he and his family were still vampires, and it was still deathly dangerous for Bella to be around them. Caution because Alice, Esme, and even Rose seemed taken with her, and that just wasn't good. Bella was human, and as such, she was a fragile, mortal being. All too soon something would separate them - an accident, an illness, or plain old age. And Edward didn't think his sisters or his mother could stand watching Bella grow old and die if they were permitted to get attached to her. He didn't want to think about his own feelings, were that to happen.

But Bella clearly needed help; that much was perfectly obvious. And it wouldn't be as easy as it might have been. In another place, in a different situation, they might have convinced her to report her father to the police and that would be that. Of course, in Bella's case it just wasn't that easy. Her father was the chief of police. Even if they turned to another jurisdiction - another town, or the county - it was guaranteed he'd have friends there willing to help him. But if they couldn't go to the police, what could they do? Emmett had expressed an eager willingness to give the chief of police a taste of his own medicine, but that wouldn't necessarily help Bella and it might well expose the family to the sort of attention they were trying to avoid. Going a step further and outright killing Charlie Swan, were they willing to do it, might also create more problems than it solved. In addition to the unwanted attention a search for the murderer would bring about, Bella would be shipped back to her mother. And Edward wasn't ready for that to happen unless he was sure it was a safe option. Bella wore an intense loneliness plainly in her murky eyes - it was painful to see, and Edward had no faith that anyone with eyes like those could have had a satisfactory childhood.

"How did it go last night?" Carlisle asked, leaning against a counter near his wife.

"Better than expected," Esme replied with a smile. "Carlisle, she's such a sweet girl. So sad..." Her eyes grew distant for a moment before she shook her head to clear them. "She kept apologizing for putting us out, and worrying that we'd get some sort of retribution from Charlie."

"Yes," Carlisle agreed, his voice dark. "She mentioned something like that earlier, too, when she asked me to take her home."

"Why did you do it?"

Edward didn't know he'd spoken until the words were out of his mouth and silence had settled on the kitchen.

Carlisle lowered his head a little. "I'm sorry, son. But you know I had to."

"He hurt her." Edward knew he sounded almost petulant, but he couldn't quite care. Remembering being in her bedroom the night before - the sudden, beautiful kiss and then her father's fury - brought back all of the emotions that had surged within him. He felt a desperate desire to rush upstairs just to check - just to see if Bella was indeed here, safe. "Who knows what he did when you left her there, but when he walked in and saw us he flipped. Grabbed her, shoved her. Backhanded her fucking  _face_."

"I understand," Carlisle said, and Edward didn't know how he could keep his voice so impeccably calm. "I understand that you're upset and I understand why. But, son, I had to do it. She wanted to go back, and legally we can't keep her against her will. That's kidnapping."

"She didn't want to go back," Edward argued, though he knew he hadn't been there and therefore had no business wading into this argument. "She's brainwashed or something. It wasn't a choice."

"I know that."

"Huh?" Edward blinked. He hadn't expected to be right.

"It's similar to Stockholm Syndrome, and it's what makes victims stay with their abusers - protect them, even." Carlisle smiled, the gesture affectionate and sad. "In a very real way, she  _has_  been brainwashed. By fear, if not by her father specifically. What would you feel, were you in her place? Would you be strong enough to walk away from your parent, with no money and no place to go? With the possibility of him coming after you, even more angry, to hurt you worse?" He shook his head. "No, no, probably not. What Bella's most likely feeling is very, very common. The hurt is not welcome, but it's all she knows."

"Better the devil you know than the devil you don't?" Jasper muttered from the dining table, a dark look on his face.

"Precisely. Except that I think Bella's been remarkably brave, you know. To be here with us, to trust us as much as she has...it's nothing short of remarkable." Carlisle glanced at his watch and made a face. "I'm late for my shift. Take care of her, and we'll talk when I get home." He kissed Esme again, and squeezed both Emmett and Edward on the shoulder. "Don't lose heart if she backtracks some on that front. I'd be surprised if she didn't. She had quite a shock last night, and was running on fumes."

"Poor thing," Esme murmured again. "We'll take care of her."

Carlisle nodded as he buttoned his coat and checked his pockets for his keys. "Remember - we can't keep her against her will. But if she asks to go back there, do whatever you can to change her mind. It's not safe for her to return to him - not right now."

"No worries," Alice said firmly, her eyes glittering with resolve. "She's  _not_  going back."

Which was all well and good to say, Edward wanted to retort, but it didn't mean anything if Bella decided she wanted to return to her father's house. Though when Alice or Emmett caught a glimpse of the horrible bruise that Edward watched develop on Bella's cheek overnight, even Carlisle's warning against kidnapping might not be enough to stop them.

Or Edward, either.

"Edward?" Esme's voice was soft, a little hesitant, as she filled the teakettle and put it on the stove to heat. "Can I talk to you?'

He nodded, sucking in a breath and holding it uncomfortably. He knew exactly what Esme wanted to talk about. Sometimes it seemed like it would be better if he didn't know, if he had to guess just like everyone else.

"What did you mean when you said you couldn't hear Bella?"

"Just what I said." He couldn't look her in the eye, not when admitting to this. Bella was not in the room, and he felt his anxious frustration growing into something approximating anger. Without her big dark eyes to soothe him, he could feel the dark emotions gaining strength. "Loud people - the young, and the obnoxious - I can hear just like...like they're shouting in my ear. I can't tune it out. Calmer people I sometimes have to dig for, but it's always there. I can always get at their thoughts. But with Bella - nothing. And it's not like she's empty-headed. I know she's not. It's like scrabbling against a wall of glass so thick I'm never going to get through. And I know there's something behind that glass, because I can see reflections from the inside - in her face and in her eyes. I can  _see_  her. I just can't hear her."

"And that upsets you." It wasn't a question, but Edward felt strongly that his mother was waiting for an answer anyway.

"Sure, I guess." He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, almost ripping the fabric. "It confuses me. She's only human. Humans don't have powers."

"There's a first time for everything," Esme said lightly. "Tell me, Edward. Apart from this problem with your mind-reading ability, what do you think of her?"

Edward's eyes narrowed. Unfortunately, that falsely-innocent tone did absolutely nothing for him. He knew exactly what kind of information Esme was fishing for, and he didn't want to give it to her. Not yet. He didn't even quite know the answer himself, and he disliked giving false or misleading information. Not to mention that he was not the exhibitionist in the family, and he liked to keep private things private. "I want to help her," he said, which was both true and fairly innocent. "I also worry that you and my sisters are getting too close to her, too fast."

"Why is that?" Esme sounded thoughtful, not annoyed. "Do you think her untrustworthy, or otherwise inadequate?"

"No..." Edward scowled inwardly. Esme already knew perfectly well that he didn't think those things about Bella. "But she's human.  _Human._ "

"Yes," Esme said, her voice holding a dry sort of humor. "I'm aware."

"And that doesn't bother you, even a little bit?"

Esme removed the oatmeal pot from the stove and wiped her pale hands on a dishtowel. "Edward," she said, "look. You've already revealed to her that there's something clearly not normal about us. Rosalie has, too. Like it or not, you and Rose made the choice to get involved with her, and you can't take it back now. She needs to know the whole truth about us, and we can't abandon her to her father. Baby, he'll kill her." Her voice lowered, and her eyes darkened slightly. "I saw it in her eyes, honey. The same thing I saw in Rosalie's eyes when we found her. The same thing I felt, trapped in my first marriage. It's the look of someone who can hear her own death laughing at her - someone who sees him every day and understands subconsciously what he'll eventually do. It's not a pretty sight to behold, and we can't turn away now."

"I wasn't suggesting that," Edward protested, horrified that his mother would think something like that of him. "Only that helping keep her safe is different than getting personally involved."

Esme shook her head. "I know that, and maybe it would have been the wiser course. But it's too late for that, now. The die is cast, and it's up to us to figure out what to do with the hands we've been dealt."

"You're mixing game metaphors," Emmett observed, still looking wistfully at the steaming oatmeal. Esme dished up a bowlful and set it at the table with a shaker of cinnamon and a little pitcher of cream. She poured juice and hot water, putting out a little selection of teabags for Bella to choose from.

"So we tell the truth and hope for the best?" Alice asked, slipping under her mother's arm.

Esme squeezed lightly and kissed the side of Alice's dark head. "That's about all we can do," she agreed.

"Unless you've seen anything...?" Edward asked hopefully.

Alice shook her head. "Nope. Sorry. Bella's a blur; it's very hard to get a read on her. Sometimes I think I see a vision of her as one of us - gold eyes , porcelain skin - but other times I see her holding a little dark-haired baby. Obviously they can't both be right. There's a decision that hasn't been made yet. I just don't know who it is we're waiting on."

"Probably Bella herself," Emmett suggested, but Esme shook her head.

"Probably not," she said, "although I suppose it's possible. That girl doesn't know how to make decisions for herself, I'll bet you anything. For other people, certainly. But for herself?" She shook her head again. "And that's the only way Carlisle would ever allow a transformation - if she were in mortal danger, or if she made the choice of her own free will, with nothing but her own best interests at heart."

"Then that'll never happen," Edward bit out, hearing the darkness in his own voice and hating it, but hating the image of Bella trapped in this demonic half-life even more. "Becoming a monster is in nobody's best interest."

"Maybe so." Esme held the teakettle in her hands, drawing warmth into her cupped palms; from such an act humans would feel only pain. "But remember the monster she already lives with. Trading an out-of-control monster for one you can tame may not seem like such a bad choice from Bella's perspective."

Edward was about to open his mouth and forbid Esme and the others from even mentioning the possibility to Bella, despite his general motto to let them do as they wished without interfering. But just as he drew an unnecessary breath to steel himself for the inevitable argument, Rosalie and Bella appeared in the kitchen.

"Bella!" The smile that lit Esme's face was welcoming and motherly. It made Edward wonder whether his arguing to leave Bella be was perhaps too late. Then he turned to greet his sister and the human girl and, just as always, he was unprepared for the sudden rush of strong, conflicting emotions that engulfed him when he saw the dark-haired girl.

"Hi," Bella said, looking a little uncomfortable in the presence of every Cullen except Carlisle. But then her eyes flicked sideways, away from Esme, and met Edward's.

She didn't blush - there was nothing so obvious to give away her feelings, but something in her deep eyes warmed and flickered. It answered the churning inside Edward, and just that knowledge, just her presence, immediately calmed some of his anxiety. She was dressed in a pair of khakis that Alice had recently bought and not yet altered - often she had to re-hem her pants, she was so short - and her own baggy t-shirt she'd been wearing when Edward removed her from her father's house. He suspected that there would be arguments from Alice about clothes like that; the shirt was practically big enough to fit Emmett, Edward guessed, and it was obviously old, the white background faded. Plus, it had a giant picture of a red-eyed tree frog on it. Edward didn't know whether giant pictures of tree frogs were "in" or not, but Alice certainly wouldn't allow any Cullen out of the house wearing something like that.

"I hope you're hungry," Esme said, beckoning Bella to the table.

"Did you all already eat?"

"Yep," Emmett said, flashing her a teasing smile and dragging Jasper out of the room toward the video games. And in a sense he hadn't been lying. On Carlisle's orders, everyone had gone hunting last night after Bella fell asleep - everyone except Edward and Esme, who had gone earlier in the evening - just to make sure there were no accidents with a human in the house. It was Jasper he was concerned about, but Edward knew that was the sort of person Carlisle was - he had everyone go, so Jasper wouldn't feel quite as bad about his difficulty with control.

"I'm sorry," Bella said quietly, choosing a teabag wrapped in purplish grey and carefully ripping open the package. Immediately the bitter, fruity smell of Earl Grey wafted over Edward. "I didn't mean to sleep so long."

"Nonsense." Esme stroked her hair gently, just once. Bella stilled, her hand halfway to the mug of hot water, but she didn't pull away. Esme sensed her discomfort, though, and dropped her hand. As Bella slowly dipped the tea into the waiting mug, Esme continued talking, her voice calm and soothing. "I'd hoped you might sleep even longer," she said. "That was quite a night you had."

Edward glanced at the clock; it was only a little past eight in the morning, and Bella hadn't gone to sleep until after three. She'd likely be tired all day, but he understood how difficult it would probably be for a shy girl like her to go back to sleep after waking up in a strange house, especially considering everything that had happened the night before. Maybe she would nap sometime during the day. Edward hoped so, both for her sake and his. He liked watching her sleep.

Bella toyed with her spoon, stirring a little cream into her oatmeal but leaving her tea black and unsugared. "E-Esme?" she said finally, turning in her chair to look at the older woman. "What happens now?"

"Now you eat your breakfast," Esme said firmly, tempering the order with a little smile. "Then you rest, and we can all get to know each other if you like. When Carlisle comes back from his shift this afternoon, we'll talk about what's next to be done."

"Charlie might not be so mad anymore - " Bella started, but Esme shook her head adamantly.

"You're not going back there, Bella. It isn't safe."

"I can't stay here, mooching off your generosity." Bella's voice was so quiet, almost tremulous, but there was a hard edge of certainty to it, too. It was clear she didn't want to be anyone's pity project.

"For today, you're an honorary Cullen," Esme said, and Edward could tell by the stiffness in her body that she was restraining herself from reaching out to the little human girl looking so unsure and toying with her breakfast. "Now eat, and no more of this kind of talk until Carlisle's home. Today is a day for rest, baby," she said, her voice gentling. "For knowing you're safe, and nothing can happen to you here. When was the last time you had a day like that?"

Bella ducked her head, her sleek hair falling like a dark waterfall across her face. She pushed strands of it back impatiently, but didn't answer the question. Edward guessed Esme had not expected her to. Finally Bella turned back to her bowl and began to eat, and Edward forced himself to move, heading for his piano, leaving Bella in his mother's capable hands. Figuratively, of course. It seemed like some of her hesitation had returned. Why was Carlisle always right?

* * *

Bella woke up knowing that she had dreamed but not quite remembering what. Oh, she remembered flashes of image here and there - a soft baby blue color, and sweet brown eyes framed by tawny lashes. A feeling of hopelessness...and then a cool, tender touch caressing her bruised cheek and a calm, reassuring expression in liquid gold eyes.

She glanced around the elegant room as she slipped from the tall bed, wincing a little as her bare feet hit the ground. Her entire body ached after being thrown into walls or doors multiple times the night before, and the spot on her head she'd whacked in the forest throbbed. Her wrenched shoulder was stiff and tight, not wanting to move as she bent and stretched, assessing her injuries. She knew that there was a bruise on her cheek from the way it felt when she winced.

The door opened slowly, revealing Rosalie's blond, pale self. "Bella," she said, her voice calm, neither overly enthusiastic nor unkind. "Esme's got breakfast waiting for you."

"Breakfast?" Bella felt her stomach rumble automatically at the word. She'd been too upset at lunch yesterday to finish her apple, and her father hadn't allowed her any dinner.

"Yeah," Rose said, holding out a pair of khakis and a lace-edged camisole on one arm, an exceedingly low-cut, fitted sweater on the other. "It's that meal you eat in the morning. Or after you wake up, if that's easier. I understand teenagers nowadays have a tendency to sleep well past noon."

Bella shook her head, eyeing the clothes on Rosalie's arm. It amazed her how blunt Rose was concerning their secret. Though no one had outright told her what the Cullens were hiding, Rose was also making no attempt to hide it, whatever it was. Bella half wanted to ask whether Rosalie was not, then, an actual teenager as she appeared. But the bigger part of her understood how important secrets could be, and refused to pry.

"Let me help you get dressed," Rose said, tossing the clothes on the bed and reaching out, beckoning Bella toward her.

Bella hesitated. She knew Rose meant her no harm, but she still felt strange accepting help from anyone. For so long she had had to do everything on her own, and now that someone was offering assistance, she didn't know how to accept it.

"Come on," Rose said, beckoning again. She didn't sound offended, merely matter-of-fact. "I don't think you can do this on your own, babe. Let me help you."

"Let me try?"

Rosalie smiled suddenly, the gesture strangely sweet. "Be my guest. I'm here to lean on, though. If you need me."

Bella couldn't help but smile back. "Thanks." She sat on the edge of the bed so she wouldn't have to stand on one leg, and shimmied out of the elastic-waisted pajama bottoms. The khakis Rose had provided didn't seem bad, so she willingly pulled them on. They were comfortable - just loose enough that she could bend and move freely, but not so baggy that the extra material got in her way. But she balked at the camisole and sweater lying next to her on the rumpled bed; they were too tight, too revealing to make her comfortable. It wasn't that she felt terribly puritan about clothing, but tight shirts made boys look at her, and she didn't want to be looked at. Looking led to touching, and touching led to...things she didn't want to think about. Things she didn't want to remember.

Looking around the room, trying to find the words to explain this to Rosalie without giving away too much, Bella's gaze alighted on a small, neat pile of very familiar fabric. It was her own clothes, gathered from the two times last night she'd been rescued by Cullens. She reached out for it, where it sat on the chair Edward had used the night before. Her shirt, underwear, boxer shorts - they were all freshly laundered and neatly folded. Feeling more comfortable, the familiar touch of her own clothes in her hands, Bella unbuttoned the pajama top and let it slide from her shoulders. She felt her cheeks redden because she wasn't alone, but at this point all the Cullen women had seen her at least partially unclothed, and she suspected that she might need Rose's help with this part.

"Want a hand?" Rose asked lightly, as if sensing Bella's reticence.

"Please?" Bella held her own bra and managed to slip her arms through the straps, sliding it into place, but her sore shoulder wouldn't let her twist her hands behind her to hook the clasp. She stood and turned around, the little hairs on the back of her neck rising at the act of turning her back on someone. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Rosalie wouldn't hurt her.

Rosalie's cold fingers deftly grabbed the ends of fabric and hooked them together, then dropped away from Bella's skin.

"Thank you," Bella murmured as she grabbed her own baggy t-shirt, the one she habitually slept in, and used her one good arm to pull it over her head.

"You know," Rose said, helping pull the sore arm through the ample sleeve without being bidden, "Alice will have a fit when she sees you in that instead of the clothes she picked out."

Bella shifted her weight uncomfortably on her bare feet. "I don't want to upset anyone," she said. "But I don't wear...I don't..." She swallowed, and tried for the explanation that made the most sense. "I don't like to be looked at."

Rose nodded slowly, and though her face showed no pity, it did hold understanding. "You can wear what you want," she said, her voice light, as if the matter was of no consequence. "But just so you know, there's no one to look at you here. Not like that." Edward was here, so it wasn't quite true, but Rose wasn't about to tell Bella that. She wasn't going to play matchmaker like Alice, but she also didn't want to scare Bella away. "There's a toothbrush for you in the bathroom. Why don't you go clean up? I'll wait for you here."

Bella was grateful that Rosalie hadn't pushed her way into the bathroom, insisting on helping her with her hair or anything like that. But she was also glad that she was waiting to go downstairs with her. Though the layout of the big house - at least from the kitchen to the bedroom and back - was becoming familiar-ish, she still didn't want to go wandering around someone else's home all by herself.

Combing her hair one-handed was awkward, but she was able to wash quickly. Studying herself in the big vanity mirror, Bella sighed. There were still dark circles under her eyes, and an ugly bruise had bloomed on her cheek overnight, where her father had backhanded her into the wall. She didn't particularly like what she saw in the mirror - she was pale, with boring, muddy brown eyes and hair. Nothing special. Not curvaceously buxom like Rosalie, or adorably sprite-like like Alice. She should be glad of that, Bella scolded herself as she pulled her hair forward, over her ears, to hide the bruise as best she could without makeup. There might have been some in a drawer, but she wasn't about to go investigating in someone else's house. If she didn't want to be looked at, it was best that her appearance was dull and mousy. But still there was a part of her that resented it - and resented that which had sparked her desire to hide in the first place.

There was nothing here to hide from, Rosalie had said. No one to look at her - not like  _that_. But the Cullens still looked. They didn't let her fade into the background, and that in itself was frightening. While her conscious mind knew they would not hurt her, part of her unconscious still identified attention with danger. And this family paid her a great deal of attention, and she didn't know why. All they'd professed was a desire to help her. But nobody had ever done so before. Not Renee, or Renee's revolving door of boyfriends. Not teachers or coaches. Not camp counselors. Not Billy Black or his son Jacob. Nobody had ever before sat her down and asked her if she needed help.

Of course, the Cullens hadn't really done so, either. They hadn't asked; they'd simply jumped into the middle of things. And while a fiercely independent part of her wanted to be offended that they assumed she couldn't handle things, another part of her was overwhelmed with the desire to trust, to lean, though she had never leaned on anyone before. And another part of her was just plan scared shitless.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Bella was greeted by Rose, who neither smiled nor frowned. "You ready?" she asked, and at Bella's hesitant nod, she led the way downstairs.

Esme's welcoming smile was wonderful, but it was Edward's golden eyes that made Bella melt. He seemed maybe a little preoccupied, a little distant, and Bella hoped it was nothing she'd done. She hated to think that she'd caused any of the Cullens unhappiness, but especially Edward. He'd  _saved_  her. And though she knew this short reprieve from pain could not last forever, she still appreciated his efforts more than she was able to adequately verbalize. She felt drawn to him in more ways than one. Edward was not just safe, but  _safety_. He was also so very beautiful, and she was fascinated by his contradictions. He could be the sweetest person she'd ever met, full of care and concern, and then instantly morph into an unresponsive, taciturn grouch. And it wasn't like she could explain what made her feel safe around him, either. He was no pacifist if what she'd seen him do to Charlie last night was any indication. But somehow, that didn't bother her. He was no fluffy bunny like his sister Alice. But she wasn't afraid of him.

Still, as she spoke with Esme and inhaled the sweet, starchy smell of breakfast, she couldn't help but feel a kind of deep sadness creep into her heart. These were good people, kind people. They only wanted to help. So why did she still feel uncomfortable? Esme had touched her hair, and though her hand had not snagged and pulled, Bella had to focus very hard on not moving away from her cool touch. She tried telling herself that the Cullens would never hurt her, reminding herself that they didn't even feel like Charlie, or anyone else. That they were cold, and that coolness was soothing. She ached for how it had felt last night, when she'd stepped into Esme's arms and been held as a child was held by a mother. A little awkward, yes, for they'd been strangers, but still the touch had been infinitely soothing.

But last night seemed very far away now as Bella drank black tea flavored with bergamot and ate a bowl of sweet, creamy oatmeal. Everyone except Esme had drifted away, and even Esme was not trying to engage her, but busying herself setting the kitchen to rights. The two unfamiliar boys had left fairly quickly, and Edward had, too. At first she'd heard the tinny, faint sounds that she understood to be a video game, though she'd never played one herself. But then that noise was drowned out by something incredibly beautiful, and her half-asleep conversation with Edward last night flowed back to her.

He was playing the piano.

The music was sweet and soothing, and Bella wanted to lose herself in it. She rose, carrying her dishes from the table.

"Please, I can rinse them," she said when Esme held her hands out for them, but Esme just smiled and gently took the dishes from her hands.

"Go on," Esme said, nodding in the direction from which the music flowed. "He pretends to be secretive about it, but he really loves an audience."

So Bella went, following the beautiful, warm sounds, until she stepped into a room covered in plush white carpet, scattered with pieces of white furniture. There was a cold fireplace, and a wall of windows that let in the wet Washington daylight. A shiny black grand piano had pride of place, and at it sat Edward. He didn't look up when she slipped into the room, but something told her that he had to be aware he wasn't alone. Hugging the wall, loath to disturb him, she slid into a soft armchair, tucked her feet up under her, and listened.

Bella didn't know much about music - music classes cost extra in middle and high school, and Renee wouldn't have paid if Bella had asked, so she didn't bother. But she knew enough to understand that Edward was very, very good. He moved from one piece to another with ease and grace, and Bella saw that he was playing from memory, with no sheet music in front of him. Weak autumn light shone like water on the gleaming ivory keys, his skin just as pale, as his long musician's fingers flexed and pressed. She felt strongly that she could sit here in this comfortable chair forever, listening and watching him play.

But all too soon it was over, and just as a piece ended, even while the vibration of the last notes still hung in the air, Alice tripped into the room, seized Bella's hand, and tugged her out of the chair.

"Come on, Bella," she said, "I've been looking all over for you!"

Edward stood from his bench, a flash of warning in his eyes.

"It's okay," Alice said, waving him away. "It's not her hurt arm, jeez." She tugged again, pulling Bella toward the stairs. Like every other Cullen, she was impossibly strong. Bella didn't bother even trying to resist. "You can listen to Edward show off later. Right now we're having some girl time."

Bella didn't like being manhandled, even if the little pixie was no man. She was certainly strong - strong enough that Bella didn't even try to pull away, for fear that it would hurt. She let Alice pull her up the stairs and into a room that had clearly been decorated by a different hand than the rest of the house. Where the public areas and guest room had been understated and elegant, this room was both bold and feminine. Lime, black, and a robust pink seemed to be the principal colors, and the sheer amount of different textures and patterns left Bella feeling a little dizzy.  _I like this girl_ , she kept reminding herself as Alice's chatter picked up steam and cases of makeup and nail polish were unearthed from what seemed a million different locations around the room.

"Just relax, Bella," Alice said cheerfully, pausing for just a moment in her monologue, the subject of which Bella hadn't quite been able to catch. "We have _got_  to do something about those circles under your eyes."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Edward continued playing for a short while after Bella had been stolen from him, though he found his heart wasn't in it at the moment. He'd been playing for her, and the music had flowed flawlessly from his fingers. But after Alice's interruption he felt as clumsy as poor Bella, missing notes and bumbling rhythms, unable to stay on tempo. He was almost tempted to go see if they still had a metronome lying around somewhere, though god knew he hadn't used one for nearly a century. Finally, when it seemed likely that no one in the house would equate his stopping with Bella's removal, he closed the cover over the keys and stood, crossing to stare listlessly out the bank of floor to ceiling windows.

He was a little nervous about Bella being sequestered upstairs alone with Alice. Though he knew his baby sister meant no harm, she was an undeniable handful and he didn't know if her constant manic displays would be too much for Bella's shy personality. He also knew that Alice was already extremely fond of the dark-haired human girl, and didn't want her accidentally spilling what were supposed to be secrets. Bad enough that Rose seemed to be doing so; they didn't need both Cullen daughters telling trade secrets. He'd worry about Emmett's big mouth, too, but Emmett understood how his gigantic size might well frighten Bella, and he'd been keeping his distance. It also helped to have someone in the background watching Jasper, though their Southern brother didn't seem as bothered by bloodlust as they'd feared.

Alice's thoughts, as always, were a nuclear-powered merry-go-round when Edward tried to listen in. Because he couldn't actually see through Alice's eyes, he had no way of knowing whether his sister's thoughts were accurate or not. Alice seemed to think that they were having a fabulous time, just the two of them. She thought Bella was perhaps a little quiet, but that had never bothered Alice before. Quiet people just left more time for her to talk.

The sudden, unexpected ring of the doorbell tore Edward from his thoughts. Pulling himself from Alice's whirlwind of an inner monologue, he stretched his mind toward the door.

It was Chief Swan.

Edward moved toward the door just as the bell rang again. Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper were already huddled, tense and waiting, just out of sight of the policeman peering through the glass next to the doorway.

"Rose," Edward said, just as Esme stopped in the kitchen doorway, "go on up and make sure Bella and Alice stay in Alice's room."

"I never get to have any fun," Rose muttered, but she climbed the stairs anyway, and the expression on her face made it clear that nobody was getting through that bedroom door - neither Bella nor Alice from the inside, and certainly not Chief Swan from the outside.

"Edward," Esme said, a note of caution in her voice, "are you sure you're calm enough for this?"

"Yeah," Emmett said, cracking his knuckles, "we can handle him this time, little bro."

"No violence, boys." Esme's order brooked no nonsense. "If you can't handle that,  _I'll_  open the door." And she moved to do just that, the three boys flanking her.

Charlie was alone, which was neither smart nor quite legal. As the door opened he stared hard at all four Cullens, one at a time, ending on Edward. His actions were both hostile and rude, and even Esme made no attempt at courtesy. She neither greeted him nor invited him over the threshold.

"You," Chief Swan said, jerking his head at Edward. "I don't pretend to know what kind of shit you were on last night, to be able to do that. Must have been a good trip though, huh?"

"There were no drugs involved," Edward replied, pleased at his own outwardly-calm demeanor. Inside, he wanted nothing more than to tear this man limb from limb for what he'd done to Bella. "Just anger."

"I hear many boys have anger management problems these days." The emphasis on the word  _boys_  was mocking, but Edward did not rise to the bait. When there was no reply, Chief Swan frowned. This was clearly not going the way he had hoped. "Look," he said, "I came here to make a deal with you. I don't know what kind of lies you've been feeding my daughter, but I know she's here with you. That's kidnapping, what you're doing. But since your father's such a respected member of the community, I'm willing to let you off with a warning. You give my girl back to me, right here, right now, and I won't arrest you for breaking and entering, or for assaulting a police officer."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Esme cut in, her voice smooth and strong, "but Bella isn't here. If your daughter's run away, I'm very sorry about that. I'm sure my boys would be happy to assist you, if you formed a search party. But Isabella isn't here; Carlisle took her back to your house last night."

"Yes," Charlie said, his voice grim, "and after that, your little emo boy here broke into my house, assaulted me, and kidnapped my daughter. And as I just said, there's no way a boy like him could have bested a man like me without some sort of chemical assistance."

Edward clenched his fists, trying to control his anger. Jasper was doing what he could to help, but Emmett's thoughts alternated between angry streams of invective and amused comments about Edward's supposed kidnapping of Bella.

"Chief Swan," Esme said, her voice somehow even colder than before, "we've explained to you that your daughter isn't here. Though I must say I don't like some of the whispers going around town about her constant injuries, and where they might be coming from."

Edward forced his mouth to remain grim, though inside he was congratulating Esme on her excellent hit. Charlie's face had turned a fascinating shade of plum, though whether it was from anger or shock Edward couldn't say. The police chief's mind was an utter blank - it was possible he'd never come across anyone like Esme before, an upright woman who could cut to the quick while still being perfectly polite.

When Charlie finally pulled himself back together again, he said, "If that's true, then you certainly won't mind letting me have a look around your house."

"I most certainly do mind," Esme said, shifting her weight a little. On cue, all of the boys shifted, too. Charlie glanced at them again, and it was clear that he was just now understanding that there were three large young men and their mother standing between himself and where he wanted to be. Short of drawing his gun, which would have far-reaching consequences he was not ready to face, there was nothing he could do. "I find that I am hesitant to let anyone into my home without my husband present," Esme continued with a small, cool smile. "I'm sure you understand, being a father yourself. If you wish to see our home, do come back with a warrant. Until then, good day to you, Chief Swan."

And Esme shut the door in his face.

"Way to go, mom!" Emmett yelled as they heard him slam his cruiser door. He picked Esme up and spun her in the air a few times. She laughed and patted his burly shoulder when he let her down.

"We need to be extra careful now, and not let on that Bella is with us," Esme said, glancing at the boys. "Until we decide what to do, let's just lie low."

"Gotcha," Emmett said, grinning at Rosalie, who was peering over the banister. "Rose! Rosie! You'll never guess who just kicked the chief's proverbial ass!"

Rose rolled her eyes and smiled back at him. "Since the ass-kicking wasn't literal, I'm going to say that it was Esme." She leaned farther over the banister to kiss Emmett's upturned face. "The rest of you haven't the subtlety for proverbial pounding."

"How is Bella?" Edward asked, his impatience getting the better of him. "Did her dad's visit freak her out?"

Rosalie snorted. " _Please_. She didn't even know he was here. Alice is so busy playing Barbie up there that I'm sure she didn't have a vision, and I didn't see any point in telling them."

Edward felt part of the weight on his shoulders relax, and he saw answering relief in Esme's face. At least Bella was saved that much torment; she didn't need to know her father had been here, or that he was attempting to threaten the family. Not that they considered the police chief any sort of threat to them, but still. The less Bella had to worry about, the better.

"So...what happens now?" Emmett asked as he leaned against the side of the stairway, Rose's arms draped casually around his shoulders. "I mean, we kind of just lied to the police."

"Corrupt police," Jasper corrected.

"It doesn't change anything, either way." Esme crossed her arms, the gesture firm and unyielding. "We'll talk when Carlisle gets home later this afternoon. We have until then to try to make Bella feel as comfortable as possible here, with us. Because I'm afraid she has the final say in whether she goes or stays. Charlie was right about one thing - we can't hold her against her will. Carlisle's stressed that several times."

"She's hiding something," Jasper said, speaking up hesitantly. "Something more than her father's beatings."

"You can feel her emotions?" Edward asked, sudden jealousy flooding his system.

Jasper nodded. "I don't seem to have the trouble you do, or even that Alice does."

"Alice has trouble with her, too?" Emmett asked.

"Mm." Jasper's affirmative answer was thoughtful. "After those sudden, vivid visions she had before Bella moved here, there was nothing. Now she says she can sometimes see a fuzzy, watery image if she tries hard, and if it has to do with someone else in our family and not just Bella. But they're not distinct, these images, and they don't come easily."

"That's better than me," Edward muttered. "I can't hear her at all."

"I haven't tried influencing her yet," Jasper said, and Edward could tell from the tone of his voice and the sweep of calm settling around him that his brother was trying hard to mitigate his frustration. "It's possible I'll be unable."

"It's possible," Esme agreed. "You may get your chance to try when we sit down to talk, later. I'd love it if she were calm enough to tell us the truth about what's really going on."

"I don't like this talk about another secret," Rose muttered, and Edward silently agreed. The one they knew about was bad enough - what else could the velvet-eyed girl be hiding? Something about her mother, perhaps? She had no siblings, so it couldn't be that. Not knowing was so much worse than knowing, he thought. His imagination kept supplying him with possible scenarios, each more gruesome than the last.

Esme opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment Jasper's eyes widened and he winced visibly.

"Something's wrong upstairs," Rose guessed, almost at the same instant Edward heard Alice's frightened roar in his head.

_EDWARD!_ the tiny vampire girl shouted in his head, louder and more frantic than he'd ever heard her before.  _GET ESME! AND GET UP HERE!_

Edward barreled up the stairs, the rest of his family two steps behind him. He didn't bother obeying Alice's first command, knowing everyone would respond to Jasper's phantom pain anyway. Throwing open the door, he was greeted by visual chaos. The bright colors and vivid patterns of Alice's room didn't help him hone in on the problem, nor did the piles of clothing, makeup, and god-knew-what strewn everywhere.

After what seemed an interminable time, he finally found Bella tucked into a corner, her chest heaving as she panted, looking like a wild, trapped animal.

_Panic_ , Jasper told him from the doorway, a safe distance from the enticing fragrance of Bella's quickened breaths.  _Fear - deep fear. Confusion from Alice; she doesn't know what she did to trigger it._

Of course Alice wouldn't know, Edward thought angrily as he knelt in front of Bella. The problem with Alice was that she didn't think before she acted.

"Bella?" he asked carefully. This was killing him, watching her like this. Her eyes were glazed over and he didn't need Jasper's running commentary about her emotions to know how scared she was. She practically dripped fear; it was on her breath just like a prey animal running for its life, and he could smell it, clear as anything.

"Edward," Rose said, breaking through his own rising panic as Bella didn't respond, and he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. "You're too close. Give her some space."

It was an unwelcome command, and Edward shrugged off Rose's hand. "She trusts me," he argued.

"She's not herself right now," Rosalie said, replacing her hand and firmly tugging him backward. "Trust me, Edward. Let Esme try."

But Edward didn't want to hear that, and he ignored Rose's hand again. Instead he reached forward with his own, fighting back fury at whatever had made Bella this way - not Alice's unthinking act, whatever it had been, but the deeper problem, the one that caused this terror in a girl too young to know how to deal properly with such pain. Her hands gripped her knees, clasping them close to her chest. Her knuckles were white and her arms trembled with the force of her grip.

"Bella," he said, "Bella, it's okay. You're safe." With one fingertip he traced the line of her taut hand, the tendons vibrating under the thin, tender skin.

She didn't shriek or otherwise react badly to the touch, so he pressed a little further, laying one hand gently over hers, curling his fingers in an attempt to get her to release her death-grip. He didn't pull, didn't pry, but stroked the side of her hand where it met her khaki-clad leg. "It's Edward," he said, his voice a low murmur, calm and soothing, though inside he was a boiling mess of fury. "You trust me, remember? I took you away from Charlie. You told me you trusted me."

Slowly her hand unclenched. Her palm was damp, and he saw little beads of sweat along her hairline, but she let him take her hand. He squeezed it, then ran his fingers down her palm, stroking gently at her nearly transparent inner wrist. Her arm moved shakily, bumping his shoulder before finding his throat. She slid her fingers around the back of his neck, into his hair, and they curled there, gripping, tugging lightly.

He nearly lost it with that touch; he'd had no idea how sensual someone else's hands in his hair could be, and he stopped breathing - not that he needed to, anyway - for a long moment. Fighting back a surge of utterly inappropriate desire, he touched Bella's other hand. "That's it," he said encouragingly. "It's me, Edward Cullen. You're here with me, with Rosalie and Esme. You're safe. No one can hurt you here."

And finally, finally she moved, her other hand, releasing her knee, and she slid it around his shoulder, drawing herself slowly into his arms. Edward held her close, letting her tuck her head under his chin, and settled her more firmly against him. He could feel the eyes of his family on his back, but he didn't care - not enough to let go of Bella, certainly.

_Well done,_  Esme thought at him, her smooth mind-voice full of pride.

_She's calming_ , Jasper added, though Edward didn't need the reassurance. He could feel her tense body slowly relaxing, muscle by muscle, and hear as her breathing slowed to something approximating normal.

Alice's mind was full of penitent gibberish, but Edward pushed it all away. He adjusted his hands, gathering Bella against his chest so he could lift her, and he stood carefully, her body cradled against him.

"I can walk," she said, her voice muffled against the collar of his button-down shirt. She sniffled, and he heard the embarrassment in her voice.

"I know you can, "he agreed, but she wasn't struggling, so he didn't offer to put her down. Instead he sat in an armchair, Bella curled on his lap, her face still tucked against him, hiding. He was sitting on a pile of Alice's clothes, but she could yell at him for wrinkling them later. Right now, what was more important was calming the girl he held. And no matter what Rosalie said, he was not planning on releasing her anytime soon. Not unless Bella asked him to.

Edward glanced up at his family. Alice was buried in Jasper's arms, but other than her, they were all watching him with expressions ranging from smug to confused.

_Protective much?_  Jasper thought, a little teasingly, but as he was currently wound around a distraught Alice the jest didn't have much strength.

_Generally it's not smart to touch someone having a panic attack_ , Rosalie admonished.  _She must really trust you._

Edward lowered his head, pressing his lips to Bella's sleek hair and promising silently to do everything in his power to be worthy of that trust.

"Hey, babe?" Rose dropped to her knees in front of Edward's chair, though she did not attempt to touch Bella. "Everything okay now?"

Bella slowly removed her head from its hiding place. Her eyes were bright, but she had not actually shed any tears, which surprised Edward. He watched the interaction cautiously, ready to remove Bella if Rosalie pushed too much.

But Rose didn't seem inclined to be too pushy. She quirked a small smile. "Sorry about all that," she said. "How are you feeling?"

Bella slowly unlocked her hand from Edward's hair, much to his dismay. She rubbed her face and sighed. "Embarrassed," she said finally. "I'm sorry for freaking out." Her voice held a deep exhaustion that disturbed Edward, for it seemed more than just physical. This was the kind of tiredness that reached deep into a soul. "I didn't mean to." Her eyes searched the room, alighting on Alice, who had turned in Jasper's arms. "I'm sorry, Alice," she mumbled, her face turning a deep shade of red. "I'm really, really sorry."

"No," Alice said, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"We still don't," Rose broke in, firmly overriding Alice's threatened theatrics. "Can you tell us what happened, Bella? So we don't accidentally do it again?"

Bella shifted nervously in Edward's lap, and he tightened his arms reassuringly. "It's okay," he said, kissing her forehead. "We just want to know how to make you comfortable."

She was quiet for a long moment before speaking. "It was a couple things, I guess," she said finally. "The clothes - I can't wear things like that."

"Like what?" Rose asked, glancing around the room at the piles of fabric Alice's closet had vomited everywhere. It was impossible to tell exactly which items Bella meant.

But Bella shook her head, shifting in Edward's lap as if trying to get even closer to him, and it was clear that they weren't getting any more out of her on that subject. "But mostly," she said, and swallowed convulsively, her voice quivering, "it was that...o-only Ch - only  _he_  calls me th-that."

Comprehension dawned on Alice's face, though no one else's. Edward shot her a warning glare so she wouldn't accidentally say whatever-it-was again, even in explanation. She could tell them all later, when Bella couldn't hear and be upset by it again.

Edward thought Bella was done with her explanation, but she drew another breath and suddenly spoke again, to his surprise. She was offering even more information, and he didn't know how she had the courage to do it, but he was glad. "When he's h-having fun," she said, stumbling over the words. "Not m-mad. Not punishment. Just having fun being m-mean."

Her words instantly brought back Edward's blind rage, and it was all he could do to remember he was holding a fragile human body in his arms and he had to be gentle with her. He reached out mentally, hoping for some calming relief from Jasper, but both his brothers were struggling with their own fury - as was Rosalie. Only Esme, blocking the doorway and looking very firm, stopped Emmett and Rose from leaving the room, presumably to track down Chief Swan. Alice's grip on Jasper had a similar effect.

Bella moved again in Edward's arms, and he forced his attention back to her. Her eyes were afraid, darting across his before finally settling down when he brought a hand to her unbruised cheek. "Alice will tell us later," he said softly, "so we don't accidentally call you that, whatever it was."

She didn't respond for a moment, but when she did it nearly broke his heart. "You're upset," she said. "I'm sorry." Her hand came up to touch his jaw, her fingertips running sweetly along his skin. He wished he could move his hand and hold hers to him, but he didn't want to frighten her. Her touch was electric and deliciously warm in a way he could neither explain nor quantify. It made him comfortable and uneasy at the same time, made him both fearful and at peace. Combined with her constant apologies for things that weren't her fault, it was almost too much. He felt the conflicting emotions roiling inside him, and he wanted nothing more than to just fall off this fence one way or another, just so the torment of conflict would stop.

Her eyes were impossibly sad, and the pain in them was too much to handle. Edward closed his own and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. He wanted to feel anger that this little human girl could do this to him with a few simple words, but, as always, her presence wouldn't let him. It was impossible for him to be mad at her when she was so close to him, the sweet richness of her scent surrounding him, her touch warm and electric, so tender, so hesitant.

Not knowing what else to do, hardly thinking at all, Edward moved his head slightly and kissed her.

Alice's gleeful shock and Rosalie's warning were distant and vague; he pushed them aside with little care. Bella was the only thing that mattered - Bella, and how she moved her mouth slowly against his, her hand on his jaw slipping to his neck, cupping it, holding him to her.

_Easy there, bro_ , Jasper said, and the firm warning woke Edward up a little more than his sister's had. Still, his family didn't know that they'd kissed before, in the privacy of Bella's room. He wasn't taking advantage...was he?

Bella moved her mouth, taking his lower lip between hers, and the sudden movement shoved all other thoughts aside. It no longer mattered to him what his siblings or mother might think. Bella was here, in his arms, and kissing him so sweetly - nothing else could possibly be as important as that. Fire raced through his cold veins at her touch, sparking, igniting. He shivered, feeling the delicious heat of her human body, so small and yet so warm. He ached for more - more warmth, more touch, more...more anything, everything. He licked her lips, feeling her tremble in his arms, and her hand wove into the hair at the back of his head again. God, he wanted her to pull on it, to tug...

_Edward!_

The combined admonishment from Jasper, Rose, and Esme finally broke through the Bella-induced haze, and Edward's mind cleared enough to reluctantly break the kiss. Bella's eyes remained closed as he opened his, and she exhaled a warm, sweet breath against his cheek. Her face looked utterly peaceful in that moment, and Edward's heart melted. He could literally feel the ice of his venomous prison thawing in the warmth of Bella's peace. She didn't open her eyes, but leaned forward, her mouth searching for his again.

_That_  was something Edward absolutely could never, ever deny her. He simply wasn't capable of it, and he met her lips in a gentle kiss, careful not to lose himself this time. It was difficult, but he managed to keep the kiss tender and sweet without stepping over the heated line that had caused his family to bark at him.

This time Bella broke the kiss, tucking herself back against his shoulder. He could feel her poor face flaming with heat as she blushed, and he pressed a cold hand to her cheek, tempering the fire. She nuzzled his throat gratefully, and Edward knew that was it for him. He was lost - gone, utterly gone, in love with Isabella Swan. The strange protectiveness he'd felt for her since the beginning had morphed into something new, something he'd never felt before. But he understood it, plain as anything. He remembered Carlisle's words, spoken decades ago, when he had lashed out angrily at his parents for their happiness and his own loneliness.  _When you find her,_  Carlisle had said,  _you'll know_.

Edward knew.

He knew a number of other things too, now that that had been made clear. First and foremost, Bella sure as hell was never, ever returning to that sorry excuse for a police chief. Never in a million years would he allow that.

He also knew that somehow they had to find a way to help her heal. Not just the physical wounds, which would heal on their own in time, but the mental wounds that made her curl in on herself - the ones that made her cower in the corner at the use of a nickname. She shifted against him again, her far hand sliding loosely around his side. The act - so simple and yet so trusting - sent a burst of protectiveness through him again, followed by an equally strong rush of possessiveness. He glanced up at his family members, who were all watching him and Bella. He didn't at all like the lack of penitence on Alice's face, and both Rosalie and Jasper were cautioning him silently to tread carefully and slowly with Bella. Emmett's mind was full of snide remarks that Edward vowed he'd never get a chance to voice around Bella. Esme was happy, but concerned, too - for both of them. He scowled at them all, generally, not wanting to single anyone out in front of Bella. She didn't need to hear them arguing when there would be hours and hours in which to fight later, while she slept. And argue they would, he knew; he didn't need Alice to predict that much.

Because Bella was his now, and he had every intention of keeping her, and keeping her safe.  _He'd_  been the one to watch over her troubled sleep, night after night.  _He'd_  been the one to notice she was missing and go after her.  _He'd_  been the first Cullen to actually see a mark of violence on her creamy skin, and  _he'd_  been the one to make her father pay, at least a little bit, for what had been done to her.  _He'd_  brought her to this house not once but twice, and it was  _he_  she responded to just now, holding to him to pull her through the sudden panic attack. No matter that Carlisle was a doctor, or that Jasper could sense her emotions, or that Esme and Rosalie had firsthand experience with similar heartache. What mattered was that she'd chosen  _him_. And Edward wasn't about to give that up.

She was so warm in his arms, her fragile human body curled enticingly against him. Every subtle movement made desire slide like wine through his bloodless veins, and he wanted her desperately, wanted her in ways he knew he could not have her. Not now, and maybe not ever. But this he could have, and he'd take whatever part of Bella Swan he could, everything she offered. Because somewhere along the way she'd woven into the warp and weft of his world, and it was impossible to extricate her now. To go back through the weaving and try to pick apart the Bella strands would be to ruin him.

She drew a breath and spoke, the words so soft that they were hardly more than breaths themselves. "I'm sorry," she muttered against him again.

"Don't be," he said, trying to keep the anger from his voice, but it made him so mad when she apologized for things that weren't her fault. It was probably a response she'd had beaten into her, and that made him even madder. "I only want to help you, Bella."

She slid away from him slowly - reluctantly? - and her wet brown eyes met his. He couldn't help it, and moved forward to kiss the tears that dampened her lashes but would not fall. The taste of warm salt on his lips was achingly familiar, bringing back unwelcome, unclear feelings and memories from his past human life. "But why?" she whispered, and as he leaned back so he could see her again he noticed the furrows of her brow. She truly was confused about this, and that confusion pulled painfully at his heart. No one should have to feel so alone that any offer of help was a foreign experience. That it was Bella looking up at him, and then out to his family, with those big, confused eyes made it even harder to bear.

_I know,_ Jasper said soothingly, his calm yellow eyes trained on Edward.  _Bad things happen, and unfortunately sometimes they happen to innocent people. But Bella has us now. She has you._

Yes, Edward thought. Jasper was right; Bella did have him. And he'd make sure nothing horrific like this ever happened to her again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Rosalie sat on an overstuffed couch in the living room, flanked by Emmett and Esme. Jasper lounged in a nearby chair by himself; Alice was again ensconced in her room with Bella, and Edward was in  _his_  room across the hall, listening in to make sure no more incidents occurred.

"He fell so quickly," Esme mused, staring off into space. "It's not at all like Edward."

"It's  _exactly_  like Edward," Rose disagreed. "He doesn't do things by halves. He's been alone for so long, waiting. Now that he's found her, he's not wasting any time."

Emmett snickered, and Rose balled a loose fist and punched his shoulder. The impact was enough to make him rub the spot. She knew exactly where his mind had been, but she hadn't meant it that way. No, she hadn't meant physically. Physically, he hardly dared to touch the little human girl for fear of breaking her. Rose didn't need Jasper to tell her that. But emotionally, he'd dove right in, completely unaware of what he was getting himself into. There was no telling how open Bella was to a relationship - how much of her heart was still whole enough to engage another being in that sort of way. Only time would tell, but Edward wasn't prepared to wait.

"He's fallen hard," Jasper agreed. When a vampire found his mate, that was it. There was no turning back; everyone in the Cullen living room knew that firsthand. Still, they were hesitant to give their entire approval to Edward's actions. "He's always so calm; I was amazed at the emotions I was feeling from him up there." Jasper shuddered. "Not bad, but overwhelming. Fear, love. Anger at Alice. Hatred - deep hatred for Chief Swan."

"Which is as it should be," Emmett growled, his eyes darkening. Rose put a hand on his arm, feeling the tight muscles as she tried to soothe him.

Jasper didn't answer Emmett, but continued his list. "Incredible possessiveness and protectiveness - sheer amounts feeding off of each other. He feels like he's the only one who can keep her safe."

"Which may not be literally true," Esme said, hearing Carlisle's car ascending the driveway. "But it may be best to go along with it, and give him the chance to be her first line of comfort. If he really is destined to be her mate, it's important that they get this time to let the bond grow unhindered."

"Except that Edward doesn't know the first thing about helping a girl who's been through all that Bella has," Rosalie argued. "He thinks that holding her and giving her kisses is going to solve the problem, and you know as well as I do that it doesn't work that way."

Esme nodded. "I know. We'll have to help him - I didn't say that we should let him do it on his own. But when she needs a place to hide, it may be best to let Edward's arms be the ones that hold her. That poor girl needs a glimpse of healthy family life - parents and siblings that love her. I'd prefer if that was where she came for comfort - to a platonic source like you or me as sister and mother figures. But if Edward is the one she wants, I'm not going to get in the way."

"And if she could care less which of us it is, and it's just Edward butting in?"

"It's not," Jasper broke in as Carlisle entered the room. "She's very confused, and very, very tired. She doesn't know what she wants. But she trusts him." He broke off, looking for the words to explain the nuances of emotion that didn't always come with an easy vocabulary. "She trusts you, Rose. And Esme and Carlisle. She likes Alice, but is somewhat overwhelmed by her, too. The jury's still out on me and Emmett, but she hasn't really been around us much. But Edward...it's different. She looks for him when he's not there, and when he is, he draws her attention like a siphon. It's not love; I don't think she's emotionally ready for that. But there's something about him that draws her in, something more than trust."

"Yes," Esme agreed with a small smile, her eyes finding Carlisle's from across the room. "I remember that feeling quite well, myself."

The doctor returned her affectionate smile, settling himself in a chair. He held a file folder of papers in his hand. "How's she doing?" he asked by way of greeting.

"Fine, now," Esme said, after a glance at Jasper to make sure nothing upstairs had radically changed in the past few minutes. "She had a panic attack a short while ago, triggered by a nickname her father likes to use."

"And before you ask," Rose put in, sounding mildly irritated, "no, we don't know what it is. Alice said it when they were alone in her room."

"Which is where they are now?" Carlisle guessed. "And Edward?"

"Snooping from his room." Rose rolled her eyes, though in truth she didn't really blame him. Not after what they'd seen. "Let me guess." She nodded toward the sheaf of papers Carlisle held. "Are those Bella's purloined medical records?"

"You guessed it." Carlisle made a wry face. "I dislike breaking the law, but in this case I thought it was necessary. I had her doctor in Phoenix fax over what they had, too. It wasn't much."

Esme lifted her chin from her hand. "So you think the mother is absolved, then?"

"I didn't say that."

The look on Carlisle's face was strange. Esme looked at him for a long moment, then rose and went to sit on the arm of his chair. She slid a hand through his pale hair and cupped the back of his neck. "What is it, love?"

He turned his head and kissed the inside of her wrist, then flipped open the folder. A small subset of pages were paper clipped together, and these he handed to her. "This is all they had in Phoenix. And that's from birth, mind you."

Esme didn't look at the papers in her hand. "What do you plan to do with these copies?"

"I want you all to look through them, if you would. I have a cell number that the Phoenix office said was active, and I want to try calling her mother while you see if you can find anything useful in these files."

"Useful how?" Rose asked, standing and reaching for the full folder.

"I've looked at them too much; I need fresh eyes to see what maybe I've missed. A pattern, or something significant. It's possible there may be no clues here, but I was hoping that Bella might be more willing to talk to us if we could show her proof from her medical files that we know what's going on."

"We'll look," Esme said, giving him a little push.

Carlisle rose and headed for the stairs to his office. "Shall I send Edward down?"

"He's fine where he is," Esme said firmly. "We have enough eyes on our own. But bring him down with you when you're done?"

"I will."

* * *

Carlisle climbed the stairs, not feeling particularly hopeful about the upcoming conversation. The cell number from Phoenix might not work, and even if it did, he had no idea what Renee might be like. He didn't have a terribly good opinion of her as a mother, and that troubled him. He didn't like having preconceived notions about people he'd never met. Being who he was -  _what_  he was - he tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, which was what he hoped they'd give him and his family. But it was difficult in this case. He cracked a little half-smile as he passed Alice's closed door, listening to his daughter's chatter and Bella's hesitant laugh. He didn't like this talk about a panic attack, and he wished someone had called him; he could probably have managed to come home early. But what's done was done, and he had a job to do now.

Firmly closing the door behind him, Carlisle crossed to his desk. He fished Renee's number out of his pocket and dialed.

She picked up on the sixth ring with a curious, "Hello?"

"Mrs. Dwyer?"

"Yes?"

Carlisle knew he was not the judge of character that Jasper was, or Edward. He felt adrift in this conversation already, and they'd barely begun to speak. Her voice was so light, so carefree - so different from Bella's smoky, heavy tones that he wondered briefly whether he was, in fact, speaking to the right person.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you," he said, putting on his best professional voice, "but are you the mother of a seventeen-year-old girl named Isabella Swan?"

"Who is this?" Renee demanded, her voice suddenly turning suspicious.

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen, from the Forks town hospital," Carlisle answered, feeling no urge to lie.

"Look," Renee said, and he heard the sound of a squeaky door opening. Suddenly the other end of the line was awash in background noise - music, loud bad music, and a cacophony of voices. Had she just entered a bar? It seemed likely. "Dr. Cullen, my ex-husband deals with all that now. Why aren't you calling him?"

"I've already spoken with Chief Swan." Carlisle scowled at the title. He hoped Charlie wouldn't stay police chief long. "Now I need to hear from you. You're Bella's mother."

"I know I'm her mother," Renee said irritably. "I took care of the girl for sixteen years or whatever. Now it's her dad's turn. She  _said_  she wanted to go. God alone knows why - I couldn't stand living in that moldy old town."

Carlisle didn't comment about how he and his family currently did live in that moldy old town,' but he did take note that she didn't offer any apology for her slur. "She said she wanted to live with him? When was that?"

"Are you with CPS?" Renee asked suspiciously. "Should I be remembering dates? Because I told them before, when she was just a kid, that I don't  _do_ that. I can't remember whether yesterday was the seventeenth or the twentieth, most of the time. I'm supposed to date stamp every time my kid says something to me?"

"I'm not with CPS," Carlisle said, though at the moment he wished he had that kind of authority. "I'm just trying to get some facts straight. There are discrepancies in her medical files." That wasn't perhaps entirely honest, but he hoped Renee wouldn't question it.

She didn't. "I don't know when she said it. I can't give you a date. It was around the time Phil and I bought the RV."

Several things became clearer with that comment, particularly Bella's previous words about how she didn't know where her mother was. "Mrs. Dwyer," he pressed, "may I ask where you are?"

"Bob's Cantina, Jacksonville, Florida," Renee answered readily. "They have a killer tequila here - one hundred percent blue agave. And no worm."

Florida. About as far away from Forks as it was possible to get. Carlisle mentally shook his head. "Mrs. Dwyer," he tried again, "I'm trying to get some information for Bella's records. That's all. Can you tell me if you ever noticed anything unusual around the time Bella left for a visit to Charlie, or returned from one? Anything at all?"

"That kid is completely unusual." Carlisle heard the clink of ice against a glass. As far as he knew you didn't drink tequila on the rocks, so he had no idea what exactly Renee was doing. "What's the word her English teacher used? Taciturn? I don't know what that means, but Bella's moody. She's always been a little emo kid. A pain. Never could just let go and relax, have fun. Not Bella. Always cleaning the house, cooking shit. Always asking questions. Doing extra work. Do you know she wanted to take some sort of special classes last year? Said she could get college credit for high school work. I told her absolutely not, especially with the price of the tests she'd have to take at the end of the year. What kid does that?"

"Plenty of high schoolers participate in the AP program, Mrs. Dwyer," Carlisle said, trying to remain calm. He wasn't sure he would ever get the information he wanted from her, but he  _was_  getting a pretty clear picture of Bella's home life in Phoenix. "You didn't notice anything when she left for Forks, then? Or returned?"

He could almost hear Renee's impatient shrug, could almost see the faceless woman sitting at a seedy bar, a drink in her hand, her phone tucked against her shoulder. "No, nothing. Look, she never seemed that interested in daddy time before, okay? But what kid is? Who'd be excited about spending the summer in the rain? So that's why it kind of surprised me that she wanted to go live with him. But she's a stubborn kid, and she'd made up her mind. Phil and I would have taken her with us. I told her I could home school her, that we could make it work. The couch in the RV is plenty comfortable to sleep on."

Carlisle had heard enough. He didn't want to talk to Renee anymore, didn't want to dig further when digging seemed to get him nowhere. She didn't have the information he wanted - either that, or she was playing dumb. Either way, he was done. He bid Bella's mother goodbye, collected a reticent Edward, and headed back downstairs.

"Found anything?"

Rose mumbled a little thinking noise. "If by anything' you mean that Bella's seventeenth birthday was last week. Who wants to bet nobody did anything for her?"

"None of us celebrate birthdays, Rosie."

Rose glared at Emmett out of the corner of her eye without raising her head. "That's because there's no point. We don't change. Why celebrate another year of endless life?"

"We do change, Rosalie," Carlisle interjected gently. "Not physically, maybe, but we still grow and learn. Our opinions and emotions shift; we gain insight and cast off what we used to think we knew. We are not static."

"Do you think we should have a belated party for her?" Esme asked, her voice a little hesitant.

"No."

Everyone turned to Edward, and Carlisle raised an eyebrow at him. Edward scowled at them all. How could they even think something like that was a good idea? Couldn't they see how much Bella disliked being the center of attention?

"Why not, son?" Carlisle finally asked, his voice carefully neutral. "It seems like a good way to make her feel appreciated."

"Embarrassed, you mean." Edward shook his head. "Have any of you spent any time around her at all? She hates all that attention. All you'll do is alienate her."

"I agree with Edward," Rose said slowly. She looked carefully at him, her face an unreadable mask and her thoughts a running list of the parts of a V8 engine, in alphabetical order. He hated when his family blocked him like that. "She's too shy to enjoy a big fuss. But a little something probably wouldn't hurt, I think."

"How little?" Esme asked, with a glance upstairs that nobody had to question. If they were seriously considering doing something small to celebrate Bella's birthday, that required reining in Alice. No small feat at the best of times, and this one concerned the girl Alice hoped would become her sister someday.

"Cake?" Rosalie suggested. "Maybe a family activity? No presents - Edward's right. They'd just make her uncomfortable."

"And it's not like we could sit down for a big family dinner," Edward muttered darkly.

"Edward," Carlisle admonished gently.

"No music," Edward said, and it sounded like an order. "No dancing. No fancy clothes. No pranks, no singing Happy Birthday."

"And no presents," Rosalie reinforced.

"Alice isn't going to like this," Jasper sing-songed, though it hardly needed to be said. Alice certainly wasn't going to like it at all. But Edward was firm, and he was glad he had Rose on his side for this fight. Esme and Carlisle also seemed to understand. Emmett had whined in his head at the no pranks' and no singing Happy Birthday' rules, but Edward hardly cared. The important thing was making sure Bella felt comfortable, and the kind of big party Alice excelled at planning would not please the shy human girl at all. Alice would just have to live with it.

"Did you learn anything else from her files?" Carlisle asked, changing the subject smoothly.

Emmett grimaced and threw down the sheaf he was holding. "Probably nothing new," he said running a hand through his curly hair. "The poor kid hasn't been to see a dentist since she knocked a few baby teeth out when she was eight." He glanced at Edward, who had narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Playground accident at school. Seems legit; you can look for yourself."

Edward thought about it, but declined his brother's offer. He didn't think it was the best idea for him to be snooping in Bella's medical records. It was fine for the rest of the family if Carlisle thought it would be useful, but for himself Edward didn't want to see proof of her pain set down in black and white. It would only serve to make him madder, and he didn't need more fuel for his anger.

"She's not up to date on her immunizations," Rose intoned, taking up the narrative. "About the only time she saw the doctor in Phoenix was when she hurt herself - no checkups or anything. Strains and sprains mostly, but she's broken her left tibia and dislocated both shoulders multiple times."

"Poor kid." Jasper shook his head. "And she had to deal with that monster of a father on top of her own clumsiness. It's a wonder she's not in a wheelchair by now."

"I say any injury that happened here in Forks is suspect," Rose said. "There's excuses for all of them, and not just the usual fell down the stairs' bullshit. But who can say? He's the chief of police. If anyone knows how to cover up child abuse, it would be him."

"Edward," Jasper said suddenly, his head cocked to the side as if he were listening for something, "Bella wants you."

Edward was on his feet in an instant, fear rushing to his heart. Alice's thoughts were still racing happily along, but -

"It's okay, she's not panicking again," Jasper soothed. "She's just had as much Alice as she can stand for now, and she needs a way out. She's wishing for you."

"Go on, son," Carlisle said with a small smile. "Play her some music or something - something calming. We'll explain to Alice about the party. Bring Bella in to us when she's calm again, and we can talk about our options for the future."

Edward couldn't get out of the room fast enough, and he barreled up the stairs. With an impatient knock on Alice's door, he was moments from seeing his Bella again, and he almost couldn't stand the suspense. He could smell the warm, living scent of her through the closed door, and yearned to have her in his arms again, where he could see and feel her as well.

Alice opened the door in a huff, belying her own impatience with his interruption. But Edward couldn't care less about Alice's mood, and he peered around his sister, looking for the velvet-eyed beauty who had captured his heart.

"Carlisle wants to see you downstairs," he told his sister without looking in her eyes. He was still upset with her over the earlier panic attack, and knew that he would be for a while. A century had given him plenty of time to admit to his own faults, and he knew that he was both quick to anger and slow to forgive. These were not admirable traits, but neither were they ones he could control, particularly where Bella was concerned. Any harm to her was unforgivable in his eyes.

Alice glanced over her shoulder questioningly, but Edward waved her away. "I'll take care of her," he said, trying to tamp down his impatience long enough to get Alice out of the picture.

"If you say so," Alice said, sounding unsure. She turned and smiled at Bella. "I'll be back soon."

She wouldn't, if Edward had any say in the matter. He didn't say so, though, as Alice scampered down the stairs, leaving him alone with Bella.

She was sitting amid the headache-inducing riot of Alice's room, wearing the same clothes that she'd had on before. Edward raised an eyebrow, impressed. That might be a first for someone on whom Alice wished to bestow a makeover. Her hair had been combed until it shone like a dark waterfall struck with hints of red, and Alice had done something to make her eyes appear hooded and smoky. There was no need to apply a coat of foundation - Bella's porcelain complexion was perfect without it. Her nails had been painted a pale pink that matched the glossy shine of her lips.

She shifted on the edge of Alice's bed, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. Abashed, Edward held out an inquiring hand. Bella stared at it for a long minute before she stood, crossing to him and taking it.

"You're my guardian angel in more ways than one, it seems," she said quietly, and her sweet, low voice held a hint of fun.

"Mm," Edward acknowledged. "Seems I didn't get to you quite in time." He examined her nails. It wasn't the worst color in the world, but he disliked the non-natural texture and smell. At least she was sensible and kept her nails clipped short.

"Yeah," Bella agreed, a little pink touching her cheeks. "I'm not much for all this primping, but it meant so much to Alice."

"You know, it's good for her not to get her way all the time." Edward pulled ever so gently, easing her out of Alice's room and shutting the door on that headache of color and texture. "It won't kill her if you tell her no."

"I know." Bella took an extra step before stopping, which brought her within a breath of touching him. Edward closed his eyes and breathed, relishing the sweet torture of having her so very close. "But I like making people happy."

And do you count as people? Edward wanted to ask, but he didn't. He suspected that it wasn't a terribly nice question. Not to mention that he was a little afraid to hear the answer.

"I like making you happy," he said instead, pitching his voice to a low, sweet tone that he hoped would help to not embarrass her at his words. Her face touched with pink anyway, regardless of how he spoke. It was incredibly fetching, how responsive she was. "What can I do to make you happy, Bella?"

She was quiet for a long minute, and Edward waited with as much patience as he could muster. He heard the murmur of his family's quiet voices downstairs, too far for Bella's human ears to pick up, and knew by their thoughts that they hadn't broken the news about the non-party to Alice yet. He hoped she would take it gracefully; he didn't want any shrieks of disappointment potentially upsetting Bella. The slender human girl stood so close to him that he could feel the heat of her skin, though their only contact was loosely-clasped hands. Her breathing quickened as she thought, and in that moment, as she stood torn between decisions, Edward wished more than anything that he could read her mind. She took another breath and held it in for a long moment, moving slowly but decisively into his arms.

He could never deny her the need to be held, and as her warm body came to rest against his it felt as if a missing piece of himself suddenly clicked into place. It was warm and sweet, utterly innocent - and  _home_. For the first time that he could remember - perhaps the first time ever - Edward felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. She was breathing fast still, quick little panting breaths that let him know her mind was still working over some difficult topics. A decision had been made, but she was gathering the courage to continue acting on it. That much was clear to him even without access to her inner monologue. Trying to steady her and fulfill his own need, he slid his arms firmly around her, drawing her close against him. She bowed her head, resting her forehead against his shoulder and inhaling deeply. Edward felt the movement of her whole body accepting that breath, and it stirred something inside him, something that quivered as it woke and spilled through him. God, he wanted her. And it wasn't the blood-crazed monster this time - not at the forefront, anyway. This was something different, something raw and...not exactly new, but something he hadn't felt for a long, long time, and never so strongly. Never had pure desire filled him the way it did with Bella.

But even that shifted into second place as Bella raised her dark, haunted eyes to his. He could still see the uncertainty warring in those murky depths, and it hurt that there was still hesitation where he was concerned. But there was nothing he could do about it - he and his family had not put that doubt there; her father had. And Edward knew he'd do everything he possibly could to erase it.

"I..." She trailed off after only one slow syllable, biting her lower lip again. The hesitation showed clearly all over her face, though her body molded sweetly to his, soft and pliant. She didn't fear him, but she was mistrustful of something. Possibly herself, and that hurt Edward more than he knew how to convey.

"You're safe here, sweetheart," Edward whispered, running a fingertip along a shining strand of hair. "You can say whatever you like." He smiled, knowing it came out lopsided. "Please?"

Her cheeks turned pink again and stayed that way as he brought a hand up and tugged her lower lip away from her teeth for the second time. "No one's ever asked me what I thought before."

Edward felt a stab of pain, almost as if Emmett had rammed him in the gut. He hated when she admitted things like that, but he  _had_  asked. And talking was probably good for her - wasn't that what they did in therapy or whatever? Just sat around and talked? And these were big admissions Bella was making; it made him want to reciprocate. Show her she was trusted in return. "I can read minds," he said softly, before he had even decided he was going to speak.

Her big doe-like eyes did not register surprise as she calmly accepted his admission. "Can you?" She sounded a little intrigued, but neither doubtful nor afraid.

Edward nodded, stroking her jaw gently with his thumb. Her bone structure was so delicate, the lines sweepingly lovely. He figured that if he knew anything about visual art - painting and whatever - he'd be able to describe it better, but he didn't. Maybe he'd learn, just for that reason. "It gets noisy sometimes. Some people's thoughts are so loud, so incessant, that it's almost impossible to block them out."

"That must be hard." Bella reached up a hesitant hand, tracing the line of one eyebrow before weaving her fingers through his hair, caressing the bronzed strands. "Do you get a lot of headaches?"

God, her hands in his hair. He bit back a groan of pleasure, and had to physically restrain himself from either kissing her senseless or putting as much distance between them as possible. Standing there and letting her comb her fingers agonizingly slowly through his hair was sheer, unadulterated torture. And yet he was amazed that she'd somehow turned the conversation around so that it was no longer about her. Oh, he'd started with a comment about himself, but this wasn't what he meant to do. She probably didn't even know she'd done it, either.

"Some," he acknowledged, determined to return the subject to its proper place: her. "But that wasn't what I was getting at."

"No?" Bella's gaze flicked to his, but it was clear to him that she was also distracted by her hands stroking through his tousled hair. He couldn't express how happy that made him; she could play with his hair all she wanted, as far as he was concerned. Providing, of course, that she did so in private, away from the prying eyes of his family. He had no wish to start fucking purring in front of his family, which he had no doubt would happen if she kept this up.

"No," he assured her. "You said no one's ever asked you for your thoughts before?"

"Never."

"Well, I don't usually have to ask people for them, either. But you're a mystery, Bella Swan. From you I get...nothing." This was hard to admit, and Edward was afraid he wasn't doing very well. "Your mind is as closed to me as...as mine would be to anyone else." He smiled at her calm, curious eyes. "So I apologize if I come across - I don't know. Rude? Or prying? I'm just not used to having to ask all the time." Edward moved his thumb, unable to help himself. He traced the tempting curve of her lower lip, silken and ever so slightly wet in the little dimple where her teeth had bitten. "But I'm glad, I think, now that I know you've never been asked before. That's not right, you know. To not feel free to express yourself."

Bella shrugged noncommittally, nervousness returning to her limbs and eyes as the conversation shifted. Edward had known his final comment would probably have that effect, but he'd felt compelled to say it anyway. It was true, and she needed to hear it.

"So will you tell me, then? What you were thinking before?" He tried for an encouraging smile. "I believe you were about to tell me what I can do to make you happy."

She shook her head, and her lip went between her teeth again. Edward wanted to roll his eyes. It was an impossibly cute habit, but also so very dangerous. If she should manage to draw blood... "That's not it," she said quietly.

"Ah." This time his smile was real. "See? There's proof that I can't read your mind, in case you needed it."

The smile she returned made his proverbial heart stop. It wasn't big, but it was so beautiful. It shone, glittering like sunlight on the rippled water of a summer lake, like he remembered Lake Michigan glittering as a child.

"So beautiful," he murmured, unable to help himself. He was completely entranced by her; she absolutely shone. Never mind the angry bruise that marred one cheek, or the others he could see peeking out from the too-big sleeves of her giant t-shirt. They would fade. This sort of beauty would not.

Bella ducked her head again when he spoke, burying her face against his shoulder. He hauled her close, tightening his arms in a hug before gentling his hold. He could feel the heat of her blush against his skin, and it fascinated him.

They stood like that for several minutes, Edward perfectly content to let Bella remain in his arms as long as she wanted. She sighed against him, her breath brushing tantalizingly against his chest. "I was going to say that I'm not entirely sure what  _happy_  means. I mean, to other people, you know? It's just so subjective..."

Edward ran a hand through the dark silk of her hair. "Come with me?"

She followed him readily into Carlisle's office; Carlisle wouldn't mind if they talked in there, where she could sit comfortably. Edward knew any of the bedrooms would probably make her feel too awkward. Plus, he wanted her to feel like her room here was her own, and she was free to invite people in or lock them out as she pleased. He didn't know, but he could guess that she probably wasn't used to that sort of privacy, or autonomy. And Edward knew, perhaps better than anyone, how precious privacy could be.

"This is Carlisle's office," Edward said as he led her in.

"Will he be mad that we're in here?"

"No." He offered her an armchair upholstered in dark brown suede. She stroked it softly as he pulled another chair over. "We all use it from time to time, when we need space but don't want to be in our bedrooms. The office is sacrosanct; it's a quiet place for thinking or whatever."

Bella smiled again; she seemed to be doing that more often lately, and Edward hoped it would continue. Those smiles melted him. "I like that," she murmured, still stroking the sleek arm of the chair. "A room for thinking, for discussion."

"I'm glad." Edward sat, wishing he dared to drag his chair even closer, but not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Though the words slipped easily from her mouth, they didn't sound terribly confident.

"You said you didn't know what  _happy_  meant to other people?"

Bella nodded.

"Tell me, then, Bella, what you'd normally consider a happy day in Forks for you."

"Seriously?"

"I'm always serious." His voice came out perhaps a little more solemn than he meant; Bella did not laugh.

"I believe you," she said. Her face grew thoughtful, and after a moment she spoke again. "I guess...a perfect Forks day..." She let out a long breath. "Charlie's gone when I get up. My homework's all finished, so I don't have to rush through anything in the morning. My truck starts on the first try, and the heater works so I'm not frozen when I get to school."

Edward tried to hide a smile. He knew Rosalie was adamant about no presents, but he was determined now that Bella have a more reliable vehicle. And soon. He wondered whether Rose would consent to a more permanent sort of disabling of that rusted behemoth of a truck.

"There are no pop quizzes, and if I get called on, I can answer from my seat instead of having to go to the board. There's a substitute in gym, so we don't have to dress down and I can spend the class period reading in the bleachers."

At that, Edward could no longer hide his smile. "That bad, huh?"

"I'm pretty awful," Bella admitted, her face turning red again. "And those slippery gym floors are the opposite of helpful." She thought some more. "My teachers don't assign much daily homework, so I have plenty of time to work on long-term projects when I get home. Charlie comes home from work alone, with no friends."

Her voice faltered, and Edward immediately sat up a little straighter, scrutinizing her face. "Why's that?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to pry into something that might provoke another panic attack, but wondering why friends of Charlie's would be so bad. "Seems to me if there were other people around he might be nicer. For show, if nothing else."

Bella refused to look at him. Her hands lay clenched in her lap, her knuckles white as she squeezed her fingers together. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Her voice was a ghost.

Edward was out of his chair in an instant, kneeling before her, trying to catch her eye. He put a cold hand over hers, stroking her tense fingers gently. "Sweetheart," he said, trying to pitch his voice to something calm. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's okay, Bella. You don't have to say any more. And whatever happened, it's never going to happen again."

She shook her head, still refusing to look at him. "You can't promise that." Her voice was as tight as her grip. "He's my legal guardian. I have to go back, and everything will be exactly as it was before."

"No, Bella." Edward felt panic rise through his body. "You're not going back."

She didn't answer, but she did take a deep breath, which he thought was probably a good thing. And then, very slowly, she turned her hand over, so it was palm to palm with his. Edward slid his fingers around hers, her small hand slipping easily into his grasp.

"That's what I would have said a perfect day in Forks was, a couple of days ago."

Her voice was so soft that Edward wasn't entirely sure he'd heard it at first. She still refused to look at him.

"Now everything is different."

"Different how?" he asked, hardly daring to.

Finally, finally, she raised her eyes to his. They looked neither shy nor hesitant, though they were incredibly serious. "You want to make me happy, Edward?"

"More than anything."

She slid out of the suede chair, dropping to her knees against him. Her arms settled around his shoulders, and he found his own hands spanning her waist, holding her close. She didn't break eye contact. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"You'll keep yourself and your family safe." She shook her head, a seam of bright fear running through the depths of her dark eyes. "Don't let Charlie hurt you - any of you, in any way. You're all too good for that. I know you're not normal. I know you have a secret, and I don't care. It doesn't change the fact that you're good people - wonderful people. Please.  _Please_  promise me."

Edward didn't know what to say. This not reading minds thing was making him slow; he hadn't expected any of what she said.

"And one more thing?"

"What?" He hoped this one would be easier.

"Kiss me?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

"Kiss me?"

 _Way_  easier. Edward immediately lowered his head, dropping his mouth to hers. She tasted so warm and alive, like springtime, like flowers, like a meadow after rain. He lapped at her full lower lip, unable to stop himself. But she didn't seem to mind, and with a tiny noise deep in her throat that did something awful to his self-control, she opened her mouth to him.

Kissing Bella was like a dream: everything moved in slow motion. Edward dipped his tongue into her mouth, sliding slowly against hers. She pressed herself against him, though it was impossible to get any closer than they already were - with clothes on, anyway - and her hand found its way into his hair, stroking the back of his head, her fingers kneading, tugging gently, urging him on. He felt her heart rate pick up and begin to race, to flutter, almost humming against his chest, pressed so close to hers. He stroked her tongue with his again, licked the smooth line of her teeth, nibbled gently on her lip, careful to use only his lips and not his teeth.

When she broke away to breathe, her stomach flexing with her lungs, Edward took the opportunity to press kisses along her jawline, following a silken trail to her ear. He blew a cool breath against it, then licked the delicate pink shell before finding the lobe and closing his lips around it.

The little noises she made were absolutely delicious as he lapped and nuzzled at her skin, finally leaving her ear long enough to trail a damp line down her throat and then quickly find her mouth again, as his lips against her rushing blood vessels proved too dangerously tempting. As long as he kept his mouth away from her throat, though, the monster inside him snapped at its leash but did not strike. It was the man inside of him, the young male long denied, that rose to the forefront. He didn't know what it was about this sweet girl that brought out his most repressed desires. Certainly she was beautiful - so very beautiful. But, then, so was Rosalie. So were the thousands of girls who had swooned at his feet in the century or so he'd been alive. Bella was kind, too, and loving. So were many other women. But it was this one, this one unlikely candidate with a violent secret, who had captured his attention and then his heart. He didn't know why, but why didn't matter. What mattered was that she was here, with him. What mattered was doing all he could to keep her there.

"Please, Bella," he muttered against her skin. He drew a handful of hair away from her throat, finding the tender divot behind her ear and burying his nose there, inhaling deeply. "We want to help you.  _I_  want to help you. Let us. Don't go back to him. We can find another way."

She whimpered as he breathed the words against her ear, her hands tightening into fists, wrinkling his shirt as she grasped it. "That's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"Asking me something - to do something," she almost panted, "l-like that. With your mouth right there."

"Right where?" Edward teased, filing the information away for later use. He nuzzled the warm spot behind her ear again, then touched his tongue to the velvet skin. "Here?"

She whimpered again, the sound tantalizing. Things were rapidly drawing close to a point where he wouldn't be able to control himself anymore, and there was no way he was ready to broach that topic with Bella yet. She was still too raw, in too much pain - emotional as well as physical - to even think about something like that yet.

 _Good choice_. Jasper's dry voice echoed in Edward's head, drawing him out of his delicious Bella-induced fog.  _Are you two by any chance ready to join us? You know, sometime this century?_

Edward took a deep breath, then another. His lungs didn't need the oxygen, but his mind needed the calming placebo effect. Finally, he gathered the willpower to move his head away from Bella's tempting skin, pressing gentle kisses to her jaw and then her chin before straightening and finding her eyes.

They were more beautiful than he'd ever seen them before, still murky and deep, but drowning in a simmering desire that he'd caused. That appeared for _him_. The realization almost overpowered him. He knew in an offhand way that he was beautiful, that his appearance was calculated to draw people to him. It was part of his predatory nature. But Bella hadn't seemed to be affected before. Quite the contrary; she'd more or less ignored him. And though it was hard for Edward to accept, that only meant one thing.

This was true. It was real. The desire in Bella's eyes wasn't for the monster, but for  _him_ , for  _Edward_.

"Edward?"

His name on her lips, a little dazed still from their kisses, melted him. He was almost ready to ignore Jasper and inform Bella that he was spiriting her away somewhere - somewhere no one else would ever find them. But the others were waiting on them, waiting for this very important conversation that would decide Bella's future. And it was for Bella that they were doing this, after all. No matter how much he wished he could protect her from the world, it just wasn't possible. There were some things she had to deal with on her own. He'd do all he could to help, but she had to be able to talk about what her father did to her. If she wasn't able to do that, Edward didn't know how they would legally be able to help. And though he was more than willing to handle the situation using less-than-legal means, he knew that Carlisle was not.

"Bella?"

She shifted on her knees, running a hand over the bandage Carlisle had applied to the open cut on her arm. "I don't know if I can."

"Just try, sweetheart. Please?" He took the hand picking at the edge of the gauze, holding it carefully. "Just come down and talk with us."

She consented to being drawn to her feet, though her expression was anything but assured as Edward led the way out of the office. "Nobody else will believe me," she mumbled, her hair falling over her face and obscuring her expression from his worried eyes. "No one ever has before."

"Have you tried telling people before?" Edward asked as they turned on the landing and descended the second half of the staircase. He knew that his family could hear them perfectly well as soon as they hit that landing, so he felt that it was acceptable to start asking questions.

"Once." Bella tripped on the last stair, but Edward caught her easily. She made a frustrated noise at her own clumsiness and, for the first time since the panic attack, she pulled away from him. Edward let her go, hating it but knowing that refusing to release her could have disastrous consequences. "Renee thought I was lying to get attention." She scowled. "It's the only time I can remember that she actually punished me."

Edward scowled, too. He'd heard only Carlisle's side of the conversation with Renee, so he had no idea what Bella's mother was actually like. But anyone who wouldn't take her child's complaints of abuse seriously? He didn't know what to say about a mother like that. Certainly neither of his mothers - his real mother or Esme - would do such a thing.

"Bella." Carlisle greeted her warmly, with a smile. Bella felt a little better, seeing him and Esme sitting together on a couch. He'd been kind to her, and had not pried. And Esme...was Esme. Bella had no words to explain it, but she already felt a keen bond with the mother of the Cullen clan, and when Esme patted the couch next to her in invitation, Bella took the seat willingly. She felt cold for a minute as she left Edward's side, but Esme's arm went around her shoulders, and it was impossible to feel adrift with that calm buoy holding her in place. "I hear you had an eventful day," Carlisle continued, turning his head so he could see her. Bella trusted the doctor, but she admitted to herself that she did feel better with Esme's comforting presence between them. "I'm sorry about that. I'd hoped it would be restful."

"I'm the one who's sorry," Bella found herself saying, though she was used to answering questions with a shrug or a shake of the head more often than not. These Cullens made it difficult, though. They were so nice, so open and friendly, that it seemed unconscionably rude not to respond in kind. "It was stupid to freak out like that."

"It wasn't stupid at all," Carlisle contradicted. "And you had no control over it, so don't feel bad, Bella. It was an involuntary reaction your body had to something it remembered as frightening. The nickname Alice accidentally used is called a trigger. You may have more than one, and it's possible you may respond to them differently, or only at certain times. It's possible that in another situation that nickname wouldn't cause the same reaction."

"I hope it doesn't ever again," Bella muttered, and the sentiment was heartfelt. She remembered that panic attack, and it had been awful. One moment Alice had been prattling joyfully as she dug through a box of rings, and the next thing Bella remembered, she was in the corner. The beautiful mess of Alice's room suddenly turned into a riot that assaulted her senses and caused acute pain. She heard Alice calling to her, but her vision melted and swirled until it was just a smear of color, and the voice in her head wasn't Alice's anymore. It was Charlie's, and he was informing her that she was in incredible trouble for leaving him like she had. She was going to be punished worse than ever before, and that thought terrified her. She could hear that nickname in his mouth, see how he spat it through his moustache at her. It was supposed to be a sweet name, a cute one. Instead it cut her deeply, and she didn't know if that wound would ever heal.

But through the fog and pain and Charlie, something had happened. A cool touch had stroked along her hand, urging her to reach out, away from Charlie. It stroked and stroked, and something about it seemed familiar. Something about it seemed...right. And she was so afraid, so terribly afraid, but she'd released her hold on herself, the grip of her arms clenched around her that felt like it was holding her together when the pieces wanted nothing more than to scatter in the wind. But the cool, calm touch urged her to let go, to trust. And so she had. First one hand, and then the other. She'd let go of herself and reached out...

...and he'd been there. Firm shoulders that she'd wrapped her arms around, and gentle arms that gathered her close, pulling her firmly from the nightmarish vision and back into this new reality where people cared what happened to her. He'd held her tenderly, as if she were a precious thing and easily broken, and he'd let her hide her face in the crook of his neck until she was ready to face the rest of his family, hovering, concerned. In a sense, he'd rescued her from Charlie yet again. And though she was a little uncomfortable with how much she now owed him, she couldn't make herself wish it had been anybody else who had done it.

"Bella?" Carlisle asked, tearing her out of her memories. She glanced inquiringly around the room, and found Edward still hovering in the doorway. She met his eyes, hoping the question in hers didn't need voicing. He'd said he couldn't read her mind, but maybe there were some things that were universal.

It seemed so, because after a moment she saw the light of his lopsided smile, and then he came to perch on the arm of the couch, next to her. If he were normal, he'd be close enough that she could feel his body heat. But he and his family were not normal. No matter what their secret, though, she trusted them. They'd been the only ones to notice what was going on, the only ones to care enough to get involved.

"I'm listening," she told Carlisle contritely, forcing herself to pay attention. There just was so much going on in her head, and she was also nervous with the whole Cullen family now assembled in the room, watching her.

"Good, because this is important," the doctor said. "Bella, we want to do all we can to help you. But we can't do it on our own. We need you to tell us, and tell us the truth. Unless you're willing to talk about it, we can't legally keep you away from your father."

Bella winced at those words. They were unwelcome, but not unexpected. "I know," she said, hearing the defeat in her own voice and hating it. She hated feeling weak and unable to control her own life. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn't want to be having this conversation; she wanted to be back upstairs with Edward, or letting Alice attack her with smelly skin-care products, or even curled up on the corner of a couch watching the boys play video games. Anything but this.

Well, almost anything. One thing was clear: she didn't want to go back to Charlie. Not really. And if there were any sort of chance that Carlisle and Esme could make that happen, they had to know what was going on.

"It's okay, baby," Esme said, and she put a hesitant hand on Bella's shoulder."We want to help you."

"I know." Bella sighed and tucked her feet up under her."I just don't know where to start."

"We don't have to do this all tonight," Carlisle said kindly, with his warm, reassuring smile. "Let's just see where it goes, all right? You can stop whenever you feel the need to. Okay?"

Bella looked at Esme for confirmation, and Esme nodded encouragingly."I promise, Bella. If it hurts too much, you can stop." Her hand moved to Bella's other shoulder, her arm curling around her in a hesitant hold. Bella leaned into the embrace, curling toward the older woman's calming presence."Edward?" Esme asked, stroking Bella's dark hair, pulling it away from her face. "Would you get Bella a blanket, please?"

He was gone and back again in an instant, tucking a thick microfiber throw blanket around her shoulders. Bella was grateful for the thought - the house was reasonably warm, but as she drew herself into the soft folds she felt both warmer and safer. It was a place to hide, in a way. She leaned into Esme's cool, hard shoulder, feeling soothed as calm fingers combed softly through her hair.

"I want to say something," Bella said, surprising herself. She lifted her head, forcing herself to meet the eyes of each Cullen in turn."I know you have a secret. I know there's something about you that you're trying to hide." She saw Emmett and Rose give each other a speaking look, but couldn't begin to interpret its meaning."I just wanted you to know that I won't say anything to anybody about whatever I might see here. And I won't ask you to tell me what your secret is. It's yours to keep, and what I can't help but notice...that part is safe with me."

"We weren't worried," Rose told her, her voice as cool and confident as always."But you have a right to know the whole truth."

Bella shook her head. "No, I don't. Your secrets are yours to keep; I know enough about secrets to know how important they can be. You've done so much for me already, and I don't want you to feel beholden. You're good people, and that's all I need to know." Bella felt her cheeks heat as she finished speaking - Alice was grinning like the gleeful pixie that she was, and the gigantic Emmett also looked pleased. Jasper seemed thoughtful, but that was normal for him. She still hadn't actually heard him speak, she didn't think. Rose looked doubtful for a minute, but then she nodded.

"Fair enough, Bella," Carlisle said."Though I want you to feel free to ask any questions you might have. You shouldn't feel afraid here; you are safe with us."

"I believe you," Bella murmured, meeting his eyes.

"Good." His smile returned, elegant as the rest of him. "Now, on to the next topic. Bella, sweetheart, we want to help you. The question is whether there's a way to do that through legal channels. If there is, that really should be the first avenue we explore. And in order to do that, we need to know exactly what's going on with your father."

Bella nodded; that much she already knew.

"I'm going to ask you some questions - Esme and Rose will help, as they may have insights I do not possess." He glanced at Rosalie, who nodded once, her face grim. "I'm going to ask your permission to videotape this conversation. That way, hopefully you won't have to go through it again with law enforcement, if we decide to bring them in. But it's completely up to you, Bella. It's your choice. It's also your choice who stays in the room while we talk."

Bella tightened the fist holding her blanket around her, and she pressed closer to Esme.

"I'm not leaving, baby," Esme reassured her. "I'm staying right here with you. Rose, too."

"Yes," Carlisle said, "Esme's not going anywhere. But you can choose whether you want the boys and Alice to leave, if fewer people around will make you more comfortable."

Bella thought about it. She hardly knew Emmett and Jasper, so it didn't matter much to her either way. She was a little nervous letting Edward stay - what would he think of her, when he knew the truth? Would he ever want to kiss her again? Would his arms still open to let her in? She didn't know, and this new tenderness with him was something she didn't want to lose. But if they were going to continue in this way, didn't that mean a relationship? Bella had never been in a relationship before, not like this. But if she was going to start one now, she didn't want the foundation of it to be secrets and lies. Not with Edward. He had to know what he was getting into.

And Alice? Bella looked at the little black-haired girl who had been her first friend in this dismal town. Her golden eyes were watching her anxiously, a worried little frown hovering at the corners of her quirky mouth. Alice was such a happy person, so bouncy and joyful. Bella didn't want that to change. She didn't want their friendship to change - it was so bright and simple, which was something she needed desperately in her complicated world. And she was desperately afraid that finally admitting to the things Rose suspected would do irreparable harm to her friendship with Alice. But she couldn't ask Alice to leave if everyone else was staying; that would almost certainly do more harm than the other option.

"They can stay," she said finally, closing her eyes for a long moment.

"If you're sure," Carlisle said. He got up and flicked a remote, and a camera mounted near the ceiling swiveled toward the group. "Remember, it's up to you. Anything you need, you let us know."

Bella nodded slowly.

"All right." Carlisle paused. Bella's face was so pale, and she still had dark circles under her eyes, though he could see clearly that Alice had done her best to hide them. The bruise on her cheekbone stood out, too; a grim reminder of why they were here. He didn't want to do this, because he knew it was going to hurt her. Nobody wanted to relieve painful memories, and he was asking her to do it in front of a group of people  _and_  a camera. But he could think of no better option. He and Esme had to know what was going on in that house in order to make a plan to help her, and the camera was, if all went well, to keep her from having to repeat this process in front of strange law enforcement officials. That would likely scare her even more, and he really didn't want to do that.

She was so sweet, so shy and retiring, but fierce in her protectiveness toward his family. It amazed Carlisle how easily she accepted their...oddness, and how she didn't pry. In fact, she'd announced that she didn't want to know. Carlisle quickly corrected himself. She hadn't actually said that she wasn't curious, that she didn't want to know what their secret was. She'd said that she didn't  _need_  to know. And that statement spoke of a deep trust he didn't know if he'd ever encountered before. That Bella was capable of such trust after everything she'd been through was phenomenal.

Carlisle glanced at each of his family members, giving Bella a few moments to ready herself before he began asking questions. Alice was already so fond of this girl. She was also still firm in her belief that Bella would soon become part of their family. Carlisle didn't quite know what to make of that particular vision. He didn't ordinarily agree with turning humans unless there was no other option, and even then he was usually loath to do so. Being a doctor, he understood that death was a necessary part of life. But Bella was an unusual case. He'd heard from the rest of the family how Edward had drawn her out of her panic attack with just his touch and voice, and how she'd clung to him after, seeming content to stay in his arms. They'd spoken at length about a kiss, too - Alice gleeful, the rest of the family more reserved. Not because they disliked Bella, but because the situation was so volatile. Carlisle had to agree that it wasn't the best time to be starting a romance, but then, Edward had never done things the easy way. And he'd been alone so long. Carlisle looked at his son, aware of the protective way Edward's eyes lingered on Bella, watching her as she rested in Esme's arms. He didn't look jealous of his mother, but Carlisle had no doubt that a great deal was going on behind his stoic exterior. And if Edward wanted this girl, and Bella wanted him, Carlisle wasn't about to stand in the way. He knew, perhaps better than any, the acute loneliness of an eternal life without a partner with whom to share it. If Edward wished it and she consented, Carlisle would turn her - or allow someone else to. It wasn't the usual way they did things, but leave it to Edward to fall in love with a human.

"All right, Bella," Carlisle said finally, and Bella opened her eyes. A tremor ran through her, and Esme squeezed her lightly.

"You can do this, baby," Esme murmured, and Bella nodded against her shoulder. She  _could_  do this. But that didn't mean she would like it.

"Let's start with a little background, okay?" Carlisle suggested."Something easy to begin."

"Sounds good," Bella said, her voice quiet but steady.

"Tell us about where you've lived, and with whom. When did your parents divorce? How well do you know your father?"

Bella straightened a little bit. These were fairly easy questions to answer."My parents split when I was a toddler," she said, "and I went to Phoenix with Renee. I've always spent summers with Charlie, so Renee could travel. Most Christmases, too, for the full two-week break."

"So you've been in contact with him for your entire life, then?"

Bella nodded.

"May I ask, Bella, why you call your parents by their names?"

"Edward calls you Carlisle," she said, and then winced. Her voice had sounded defensive even to her own ears, and she didn't want to come across as ungrateful or angry. She wasn't angry - not at the Cullens, anyway."I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Carlisle said smoothly."He does call me by my name, it's true. But remember that our family isn't blood kin the way yours is."

"I know," Bella said, although it was true that she didn't always remember that fact. Though none of the Cullens really looked all that similar - even Rosalie and Jasper - their collective oddities made them seem very alike. Their cold, pale skin, and their strength, and those strange, beautiful golden eyes...taken collectively, it made them seem more akin than their facial features made them seem distinct. "I guess...it's hard to explain." Bella pulled her mind back to her own family, searching for words to explain her reticence to call her parents mom and dad. Those words had never come easily to her. She supposed that when she was very young she probably said "mommy" and "daddy," like all little children. When had that changed? She couldn't remember."I think it's different with both of them."

"That would make a great deal of sense," Carlisle agreed."I'm not a psychiatrist, Bella, but may I offer some possible insight?"

She nodded, interested to hear what the doctor might think. True, he was not a therapist or anything, but she trusted him and he seemed to have a great wealth of knowledge.

"I can't say anything about your mother." Carlisle laid one ankle on his other knee, thinking a little. No, he decided. It was best not to tell her just now that he had spoken with Renee. One thing at a time."But your father's behavior toward you doesn't seem very fatherly. We don't know exactly what he's done, of course, or for how long. We'll get to that later. But it's clear that he doesn't act as one would expect a father to act."

"You could say that," Bella said, the edge of sarcasm in her voice.

Carlisle chuckled. "Quite. Does it make sense to you, then, that you might resist calling him a name you feel he hasn't really earned?"

Bella nodded."That makes a lot of sense," she said quietly."For both of them."

"Yes?" Carlisle tilted his head to the side in what he hoped was a questioning gesture."Let's talk about your mother, then. Why would you say that about her?"

Bella thought for a minute, feeling the comforting weight of Esme's arm around her. It felt like a betrayal of Renee in a way, but at the same time she didn't want to leave Esme's mothering presence."Renee's a great person," she said quietly."Funny, and creative. When I was little, she used to make me laugh so much. There were always art projects everywhere around the house - hers and mine. She'd dye macaroni different colors so we could make necklaces or pictures out of it." She paused. "I wasn't allowed to eat it, though."

"Of course not," Alice said, blinking in surprise. "Whatever she used to dye it probably would have made you sick!"

"No." Bella shook her head."Not the dyed stuff - macaroni in general. Pastas or breads, stuff like that."

"No  _bread_?"

Bella shook her head. "Renee didn't believe grains were healthy. Meat, eggs, or dairy either. Definitely not refined sugars or anything like that."

Alice made a disgusted face."What did you  _eat_?"

"Raw vegetables. Tofu, all-natural unsweetened peanut butter. Occasionally some fruit if Renee decided it didn't have too much sugar. Sometimes raw nuts if she approved of the source."

"I'm no nutritionist," Esme said, "but, Bella honey, that's no diet for a growing child."

"Which is why CPS eventually made her take nutrition classes," Bella said."I was really underweight and stuff. After that it got a little better, but I had to learn to cook for myself. Renee wouldn't touch anything she wouldn't eat."

"How old were you?" Carlisle asked gently. He thought he knew the answer - there'd been a mandated check-up in her Phoenix medical charts - but he wanted her to tell them.

"Six or seven; I don't really remember." Bella straightened a little bit, raising herself away from Esme's shoulder."But, look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Renee's not a bad person. It just always kind of felt like I was the mom and she was the kid. Does that make sense?" She searched for better words to explain what she was feeling. She loved Renee, she really did. Renee wasn't Charlie."I never had a bedtime or a curfew. I wasn't the one staying out late - she was. She'd bring guys home, but none of them could really cope with her. She always said it would take more of a man than she'd thought she ever find to stick around."

Bella felt her mind drifting back, remembering some of the things that had been difficult about living with Renee."I never knew when I woke up whether she'd be home or not, or whether she'd have a guy with her. Whether he'd be a stranger or someone I'd seen before." She drew her knees up to her chest, tucking them under the blanket and wrapping her arms around them."We'd do fun things when I was small, like turn the dining room table and chairs into a fort with sheets and blankets. But then things would just stay that way - she never cleaned up. She didn't often finish projects, either. She'd just drop them when she got bored, and move on to something else. I didn't realize until I started going to friends' houses in elementary school that normal people didn't live that way. Their houses weren't jumbles of junk." She smiled wistfully."I remember one time, my grandmother - she's dead now - made me a dress. And the first day I wore it, I slipped on a pile of old newspapers in the hallway. I slid into some open jars of paint that had been buried under a pile of papers and laundry. The dress was ruined."

Bella held her breath for a long moment. She could feel the urge to cry slinking up her throat, a tight, painful ball of sadness. She blinked back the tears furiously, ducking her head to hide the contortions of her face as she fought the emotion back down. It made no sense that something like a paint-stained dress could make her cry. It wasn't worth it. And yet, she still felt the loss keenly.

"Phil was good for her," she said, when she managed to breathe again. Her voice wavered, but she fought through it."He didn't want to be tied down, and neither did she. They understand each other. They fit. I guess I never really did."

Carlisle glanced at Jasper with a raised eyebrow, curious to know Bella's feelings as she sat there, no longer leaning into Esme for comfort but instead curled into herself, her face buried in the blanket. Certainly there was pain - deep sadness for emotional wounds that had not healed, emotional needs that had not been filled. But beyond that? Jasper met his father's eyes, his face solemn. Not for the first time, Carlisle wished he could communicate as Edward could, sensing the thoughts of others. It was out of the question to ask Jasper out loud, and he wasn't going to push Bella to tell them, either.

"But I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Bella said, her voice muffled by the blanket. She raised her head, looking at Carlisle, and her eyes were bright but dry. She was fighting the emotion, repressing it. It wasn't healthy, but Carlisle said nothing about that for the moment."Renee loved me - she did."

Carlisle wished he didn't have to ask the next obvious question, but it needed to be said."Bella? Sweetheart? I can't help but notice that you're using the past tense, talking about your mother. Did you realize that?"

Bella thought about it; he could see the thoughts flickering through her eyes, though he could not grasp any of them. When she did not speak, he decided to push just a little bit. "She's not dead, you know."

"No," Bella said, her voice flat. "But she's gone."

They sat in silence as several minutes ticked by. Carlisle let her have the time to think. He had quite a bit to think about himself. There were deep holes inside this girl, spaces of emptiness that had not been filled when she was young. While he had no doubt that Bella was correct and her mother loved her, as much as Renee was capable of loving her, it hadn't been enough. Whatever Renee had offered to the young child Bella had been, it hadn't been near enough to adequately nurture her. It was no surprise, then, that she'd gravitated toward Esme's warm, soothing presence with so little hesitancy despite her issues with touch and trust. This girl desperately needed  _family_ , the family she'd been denied when she was young.

What was further troubling to him was the fact that she seemed to be repressing her emotions regarding Renee, and he wasn't entirely sure why. If he had to guess, he'd say it had something to do with her father's behavior. It was entirely likely she felt that Renee's parenting was a vast improvement over Charlie's and she therefore had no right to be upset about anything that might have happened in Phoenix.

"Yes," Carlisle agreed slowly, after the silence had begun to grate on even his normally implacable nerves."You're right; she is gone. Do you feel that she might be gone for good?"

Bella shrugged noncommittally."I don't know," she said, staring hard at the pristine white carpet."But even if she isn't, it'll never be the same again."

"No, it won't," Carlisle agreed."Do you want it to be?"

She shrugged again."It was familiar."

"Yes," Esme said. Her arm still lay across the back of the couch, though Bella had pulled away."Familiar is comfortable, and right now everything is new and frightening. There's no reason to hide that."

"Bella," Carlisle asked gently, "can you tell me why you didn't go with Renee and Phil when they left Phoenix?"

Bella was quiet for a long time. Carlisle didn't know if she was going to answer or not, but he was willing to give her all the time she needed. He suspected that she knew the answer, but regardless, expressing it would be hard.

Finally she said, in the smallest voice he'd heard from her yet, "They didn't want me."

Esme felt her heart break.

"I was superfluous."

Esme longed to sweep the human girl into her arms, holding her tightly to take away the pain she saw in the rigid set of her jaw, the tightness of her muscles and tendons as she held herself grimly in a small little ball, curled in on herself as if protecting some vital part she was afraid of losing. But she held herself back, fully cognizant that Bella had pulled away from her arm earlier and not wanting to press what might not be welcome. But it absolutely broke her to hear the child state so matter-of-factly such a terrible fact. Esme mourned her lost son every day of her long life, and she couldn't imagine a mother not wanting a child, particularly a child as sweet and unprepossessing as Bella. But it didn't matter at this point whether what Bella said was true or not. What mattered was that Bella believed it. Bella believed her mother did not want her, and that was the troubling circumstance.

What the girl had explained about her life in Phoenix was not pretty, and Esme hated knowing that it was probably a good sight better than her life in Forks. While there might not be any memories of physical pain in Phoenix - unless hunger from malnutrition counted - the emotional pain of dealing with an irresponsible mother like Renee must be staggering.

"I'm superfluous with Charlie, too," Bella murmured, speaking the words into a fold of her blanket, where she'd buried her head."But that's nothing new, you know?And Renee deserves to be with Phil. She deserves to be happy."

Esme couldn't stand it anymore. The conviction in Bella's voice, the absolute belief that her mother's desires trumped her own, broke Esme's resolve and she slid her arms around the warm little human, pulling her close.

As if a wall had come down, Bella's arms dropped the blanket and curled firmly around Esme's shoulders, gripping and holding tightly. Esme smelled salt a moment before she felt the first wet touch of a tear on her neck, where Bella had buried her head."I would have wanted you," Esme crooned, not knowing what else to say. She stroked the dark, silky hair with one hand, pressing Bella's head gently against her, letting her know that it was okay to hide for a while. This had been hard, and the worst was yet to come."From the beginning, I would have wanted you."

The words were meant to be soothing, but they only served to make Bella cry harder. Esme looked over at Carlisle, at a loss.

"Let her cry," he said, his voice too low for human ears to pick up."It's healing to grieve, and that's what she's doing. Mourning a childhood she was never permitted to have." He sighed. "I wish she'd talk to a counselor, but it's too soon to expect that. Hopefully in time."

Esme returned her attention to the girl in her arms."You're not superfluous here, sweetheart." She continued murmuring what she hoped were soothing things as she held Bella, rocking a little. And she decided something. They couldn't give Bella back her childhood - no one could. But they could try to give her some of the things she'd missed out on, as they learned the specifics of what those were. Cooking and baking with her mother were certainly on the list, and Esme vowed that there would be a lot of kitchen time for the two of them in the near future.

Bella stilled sooner than Esme had expected, and she felt the girl's arms tighten around her in a hug."Thank you," Bella whispered into her neck, her breath warm on Esme's cold skin."Renee didn't like to hug."

Esme held her a little tighter."You mean she never held you?"

Bella shrugged, the gesture awkward within the embrace."When I was a baby, I'm sure," she said, her voice still quiet and shaky."But it wasn't her thing."

"Well," Esme said, "if that's the case, there's plenty of people here to ensure that you'll never be without a hug again." She'd had to quickly revise her words, for she'd originally planned to say that she, herself, would never be releasing Bella again. But there was Alice to think of, and Rose. Though Rose was not particularly physically demonstrative with anyone except Emmett, Esme suspected that for Bella she might make an exception. Emmett was a huggable bear of a man-child and would certainly join in if Bella let him. And Edward, of course. Esme turned her head to look at her tousle-headed son. His eyes were black with anger, and he held himself very carefully. When he looked at her, the sheer amount of pain she saw brimming in his eyes left her with no doubt that he loved this girl. He was hurting for her, hurting for the confused child she had been and for the frightened young adult she was now. It would probably do  _him_  a world of good if Bella was in his arms, but she wasn't like a baby you could pass from person to person.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Carlisle said quietly when it seemed that the storm of tears had calmed. "I know this is hard. Do you want to stop for a while?"

She took a deep breath and moved, not slipping out of Esme's mothering arms but sitting up and gathering the blanket around herself again."No," she said, sniffing a little and wiping at her eyes with the heels of her hands."Better all at once."

Carlisle agreed, but he was more than willing to give her a break if she felt she needed one."Just let us know, sweetheart," he reminded her.

"So that's why you came to live with Charlie, baby?" Esme asked gently, handing Bella a box of tissues Edward had fetched while she cried."For Renee?"

Bella nodded."It s-seemed like the better choice," she said, her voice still hesitant, a little hoarse.

Better for whom? Carlisle wanted to ask, but he refrained. He didn't think pushing that issue would do any good at this point. They were just trying to get facts."And you knew what Charlie was like?" he asked instead."This isn't new?"

Bella nodded."I knew."

And there it was: there was no more procrastinating that they could do."What does he do, Bella?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

And there it was: there was no more procrastinating that they could do. "What does he do, Bella?"

"I don't know how to answer that."

Carlisle nodded. That was fair. "Tell us about a day," he said. "Was this Thursday a typical day? Tell us about it."

And so she did.

Bella closed her eyes as she spoke, and her voice turned flat, expressionless. Edward didn't know what was worse - this nothingness, or the pain he'd seen before when she broke and cried on Esme. He longed to take her in his arms, to curl around her until nothing else could ever hurt her again. But that wasn't feasible, and it was ridiculous besides. Things had already hurt her, and they were still hurting her. Having to sit here and talk about it was hurting her. He understood why Carlisle had asked her to do this, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Edward chanced a glance at Rosalie. Her face was set in impeccably lovely lines that seemed almost razor-sharp in their definition. Her set jaw and tense mouth gave away just how angry she was, even without the infuriated glow of her burnished gold eyes. Emmett was watching his wife, only lending half an ear to Bella's harrowing tale. Though Rose was not Bella - was neither so fragile nor so young - Emmett's thoughts were still worried. Bella's story wasn't causing any sort of breakdown in Rosalie, though; her thoughts were clear and strong. She wanted to murder Charlie just as she'd murdered her former fianc and his pack of filthy friends. Rose wanted it to be showy, bloody, and vengeful. She wanted the chief of police to know he was being hunted before the kill, wanted him to know the sort of fear his daughter had lived with under his care. The utter bloodlust in Rose's thoughts made Edward blanch. He couldn't sense emotion as Jasper could, but looking in his sister's eyes he didn't need to. It was clear by their cold expression and the purposeful set of her jaw that her wish to spill Charlie Swan's blood was just that - a wish to spill it. There was no accompanying thirst, no desire to drink. Only to hear the soft, wet noise of his blood as it spilled against the floor.

The robotic voice coming out of Bella's throat hitched momentarily, and Edward wrenched his full attention back to her words, shutting out the sounds of his family's unvoiced reactions. He hated that awful, lifeless voice, hated the words it was uttering, but the sudden cessation of syllables made Edward extremely nervous.

"What happened then, Bella?" Carlisle urged, his voice gentle. "He secured you on his bed, in the path of the wind and rain. Then what? Did he leave?"

"Not quite."

There was a hint of Bella wrapped within the unpleasant outer shell of those monotone words, and that hint was afraid. It didn't want to talk about this. Edward eyed his mother's arm, clasped firmly around his Bella. If she wanted comfort from Esme he wouldn't claim his right to hold her, but that didn't mean he liked it. She was so close that he could put out a hand and touch her if he chose, but it didn't seem close enough. Without her warm little human body in his arms, he felt as if he couldn't be quite sure of her safety, her sanity. Without that touch, he was afraid some vital part of her might simply disappear during this ordeal. Would Esme be able to tell? Could she stop it in time, if it happened?

"He didn't leave just then," Carlisle said, drawing her words out, pushing her forward into the acts she didn't want to relive. "What did he do instead?"

"He touched me." Bella's body jerked slightly as if remembering brought physical pain.

"How?" Carlisle asked, the epitome of patience. "Where?"

"I don't know how," she said, shaking her head a little. "Just...he just touched me. On my shoulder." Her own hand rose to brush the named body part, ghosting the narrated action. "I saw him move out of the corner of my eye. I didn't know what he was going to do. I flinched."

"And?"

"And he didn't like it." The robot was almost fully back now, the flavor of Bella all but gone from her words. "He hit me."

Carlisle nodded, unsurprised. "Where?"

There it was again, the little hitch, the hiccup that sliced through the robot's control and allowed a little of Bella to shine through. She shook her head and refused to answer.

"It's okay, honey," Esme said quickly, her voice hurrying to fill the silent void that was now aswim with questions. "You don't have to say if you don't want to."

"Can you show me, instead?" Carlisle pressed gently. He held up the little digital camera with which he planned to document Bella's recent injuries and older scars.

She shook her head again, this time more firmly.

After a moment, Carlisle nodded to himself and moved on.

Edward studied Esme as the robotic voice again began answering questions. He was more worried about her than Rosalie - Rose had not come from an abusive family and had not had the chance to marry her sadistic fianc. But Esme had lived with a cruel husband and her family had not cared enough to intervene when she asked them for help. That sort of betrayal cut Edward deeply. He knew perfectly well that he was not the docile, doting son he supposed every mother wanted. But he loved Esme, he truly did. The thought of anyone hurting her was deeply disturbing. And he worried that hearing Bella's story might be too much for her. There was no real way to know from her thoughts: they were a jumble of worries, but without Jasper's input he couldn't tell how bad they were. The only thing he  _did_  understand was that she had already made up her mind not to allow Charlie Swan anywhere near Bella ever again. And though Esme was perhaps the most pacifist of the family, Edward wouldn't dare cross her. Not about something like this. Once she made up her mind, that was it.

When Bella was done describing Thursday, Carlisle asked about the day before. And then the day before that. Slowly, day by day, a picture of her life in Charlie's house took shape. She didn't seem to have trouble speaking anymore, but everything she said was in that dull, dead voice that didn't sound like hers at all. Edward wanted to scream at her to snap out of it, but he controlled himself. If this was what she needed to do in order to get through this, then he'd let her. But afterwards, he was snatching her away and never, never letting things she described were nightmare-inducing, and for the first time Edward felt glad that he did not sleep. The Charlie Bella described liked to throw things at her when he was displeased. He kicked and hit, both with fists and with an open hand. Bella mentioned objects, and that was when Edward almost lost it, almost stormed out of the room. Belts. Handcuffs. _Chains_ , for chrissakes. When Carlisle asked, his voice gentle, Bella allowed him to photograph her fresh wounds and old scars, mentioning Charlie's weapon of choice as each was bared to the little digital camera. What hurt Edward the most were the two or three times when she could not recall the details behind a scar. She knew they were Charlie scars and not just clumsy ones, but she couldn't remember what had triggered the incident, or just how the wound had been inflicted. Carlisle photographed them anyway, though Edward knew the likelihood of anyone believing her about those marks was slim. "I don't remember" didn't tend to hold up well in court.

On certain subjects Bella was still evasive, even with the dead voice that seemed to drone answers. She denied that Charlie had ever raped her, but when asked whether he had at any time touched her inappropriately she just stared vacantly at the reflection in the dark window, refusing to answer.

"I don't like that term," Rosalie muttered in place of Bella's leaden voice. "Anything that causes hurt is inappropriate. Whether or not a touch has to do with sex is irrelevant to its propriety."

"True," Carlisle agreed, and rephrased his question. Bella still refused to answer.

But after that question had been asked, Edward knew the moment he'd been secretly dreading had arrived. He was the only one who had heard her express distaste for Charlie's friends being over at the house, and so it was his job to ask. He didn't want to. He knew it would cause her deep pain, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do. But this was the time in which everything needed to be out in the open. If she answered, they'd know. If she didn't, they'd have a pretty good idea of why.

She would not answer.

Rage burned behind Edward's eyes as he saw the small human curl in on herself, holding her knees to her chest and staring blankly ahead of her. In his heart he knew the reason behind her silence. She'd been hurt in ways she didn't understand and couldn't express, and not just by her father. Edward didn't need to know whether Charlie's friends had actually raped her or merely touched her inappropriately - as if there were anything  _mere_  about that, he growled silently. What mattered was that someone - a man - had done something she was too ashamed to talk about. Edward glanced at Rose. Murder was in her eyes, and he had no doubt that the two of them would have rushed to kill the perpetrator - would have gleefully pulled him to pieces - if they had any clue who it was. All they knew was that it wasn't Charlie. It could have been almost any male of a certain age in the tiny town, though. Fishing buddies. Fellow cops. There were any number of possibilities.

Rosalie's blood-filled gaze met Edward's. They exchanged a small nod of understanding, and though they'd never been the closest of siblings they were now in perfect agreement. This man, or men, would die. And soon.

Finally, after several hours of questioning, Carlisle called a halt. Bella looked like a ghost of herself, and the dark eye makeup that earlier had seemed mysterious and alluring now just made her eyes look even more sunken and wraithlike. She scooted into the corner of the couch, huddling in her blanket and refusing to look at anything, or anyone. Esme and Edward exchanged worried looks, then turned to Carlisle.

He returned their worry, which was not at all comforting. "I'll get on the phone with the state," he promised. "If I can't find someone tonight, I'll keep calling tomorrow until I get through. We'll take care of this, one way or another. If state protective services don't pan out, we'll go federal. If that doesn't work, we'll get creative."

"And until then?"

Edward's eyes snapped to Bella, surprised to hear her voice. She sounded as exhausted as she looked, but at least it was her voice again and not some robot's.

"I can't just keep hiding out here."

"Yes, you can," Carlisle said. "We want you here, and it may be the safest place in town right now. Charlie's afraid of us; he's made that perfectly clear by his actions - or inactions, as the case may be."

"But he has to know I'm here," Bella argued.

"I'm sure he does," Carlisle agreed. "But he hasn't come by with authority and other officers to try to take you back. My guess is that he's biding his time, trying to gauge what we'll do."

"And what will we do?" Esme asked. To her knowledge, Bella still didn't know that Charlie had stopped by earlier in the day, trying to blackmail them into giving her back. She wanted to make sure it stayed that way; Bella didn't need more to worry about than she already had.

"Lay low for now," Carlisle said. "The kids should return to school on Monday - all but Bella, of course. Pretend that everything is normal. Once we know what the state and/or federal government says, we'll be able to make better plans. But for now, Bella, we really want you to stay with us."

Edward slid a little closer to Bella and put a hand carefully on her blanketed shoulder. "Please," he said, pitching his voice low. "Please stay."

He was still perched on the arm of the couch, so when she tilted her head and leaned against him, she was pressed against his lower ribs. She closed her eyes, her face a mask of weariness. She said nothing either way, but her actions made it plain: she was too tired to argue any more tonight and so, for now, she would stay.

"I'm going to make dinner," Esme said into the ensuing silence. "Edward? Why don't you take Bella back upstairs. She can eat in her room tonight." Rising, Esme reached for Bella's nearest hand and squeezed it gently. "You've been very brave, sweetheart. Rest now. You deserve it."

Bella didn't respond, not even with a nod, which surprised Esme a little. She narrowed her eyes and peered closer.

"She's asleep," Edward murmured, his voice low and hushed. He moved slowly, taking her into his arms and lifting her easily. She sighed, muttering a few incomprehensible syllables before subsiding again and nestling into the crook of his shoulder, her arms finding their way around his neck.

"Poor baby," Esme said, taking the opportunity to stroke her sleek hair one more time. "Take care of her, Edward. She needs you."

"No," Edward said, shaking his head. "She needs help.  _I_  need  _her_."

* * *

Bella woke alone some hours later. She blinked, not remembering how she had made it into the bedroom now designated as hers, but cognizant of the fact that someone had had the kind foresight to leave the bedside lamp on its lowest setting. Had it been Edward? Rosalie? Esme? Not only had someone been kind to her, but she had multiple choices of whom it had been. The thought was so strange and new that Bella shook her head a little, at a loss as to how to feel about it.

She stretched slowly, feeling her achy muscles responding to the movement. They hurt, but it was a good sort of pain, an ache that let her know she was healing. The knot on her head was still too tender to touch, but she'd woken up without the need to reach for the ibuprofen bottle that had been tactfully left by her bedside. The scab on her hip itched, and she resisted the urge to scratch, knowing that giving in would only take it longer to heal and possibly make the scarring worse. She already had enough scars littering her body; there was no need to add more.

While she couldn't remember just how she'd managed to get upstairs, Bella did remember every moment of the difficult evening she'd had before succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep leaned against Edward. Answering Carlisle's questions hadn't been easy, and it hadn't felt good, either. She'd hoped that finally admitting to Charlie's abuse would be a cathartic exercise, but that hadn't, unfortunately, been the case. If anything, she felt worse than she had before. Now all of the Cullens knew the truth - or most of it, anyway. Alice did. Edward did. They knew things that Bella had never admitted to another living soul, and it terrified her. Yes, they were good people. But even good people made mistakes. What if a mistake was somehow made with this information that she had entrusted to them?

It also felt like a betrayal of her parents, talking about skeletons in the family closet. Renee particularly. None of the Cullens had ever met Renee. They didn't know her, and therefore had nothing but Bella's words to go on. And Bella knew that she hadn't painted life in Phoenix in a good light. It didn't feel fair to Renee to explain it like that. As she'd tried to tell them, Renee wasn't a bad person. She was a carefree soul, and deserved to be happy. She deserved this time with Phil, deserved the nomadic lifestyle that just hadn't been possible with a child in tow. Which was why Bella had chosen to leave. She knew what was in store for her in Charlie's house. She was perfectly aware of what he was capable of. But it didn't matter. There wasn't any other option, in her mind.

And Charlie? The chief of police? What did she owe him, her father? Bella sat in the big bed alone for a long time, her knees tucked up to her chest, deep in thought. No answers came.

Finally a gentle knock on her door stirred her to life again, and Bella blinked. She didn't know how long she'd been lost in thought, but it was long enough that her muscles protested when she turned toward the door. "Yes?" she said, when it didn't open.

Esme's calm, loving face appeared. "Bella," she said with a smile. "Jasper said you were awake, and I wanted to know if you were hungry."

The mention of food reminded Bella's stomach that she'd missed dinner, and lunch had been no more than some haphazard snacking during Alice's feminine assault on her casual appearance. "I think so," she told Esme, moving to get up. Her joints were stiff, and one of her knees popped as she stretched her feet toward the floor.

"Do you need help, baby?"

Bella shook her head. "No, thank you," she said, trying to be polite. "All evidence to the contrary, I  _can_  walk." She felt a little nervous - not for fear of Esme, but because of the offer of assistance. It was still so alien to know that people cared so much and wanted to help her. She didn't know how to ask for help, or how to accept it when offered. The best thing, she felt, was not to need it to begin with.

She followed Esme down the stairs to the bright, welcome gleam of the kitchen. There were quiet sounds of a house full of people; it was clear that none of the Cullens slept. Edward had been telling the truth.

The kitchen was a warm, lovely room, all light honey-colored wood, pale granite, and stainless steel. As with every other room in the house, there were plenty of windows. Right now they reflected the warm light of the room back inside, creating a mirroring effect that Bella found charming rather than sinister. This was a beautiful home, and even though it was elegant, it was also comfortable. Livable. Bella liked it a great deal.

"You can sit at the bar," Esme said, nodding in the direction of a pair of comfortable-looking stools. "Tomorrow you can help, but tonight, how about just keeping me company?"

Bella nodded. She didn't want Esme going out of her way for her, but she was also nervous about trying to help in an unfamiliar kitchen. Having the chance to watch Esme first would make it easier. "Can I ask," she said, hesitantly settling herself on one of the tall, cushioned chairs, "how Jasper knew I was awake? Does he read minds like Edward?"

"Not minds." Esme poured a tall glass of skim milk and set it before Bella. "You aren't lactose intolerant, are you, Bella?"

"No, but thank you for asking." Bella took a drink - it was smooth and very cold. She'd never drank much real milk, Renee not allowing it in her house and Charlie not caring to buy liquid that wasn't either cola or alcohol. She hadn't liked it much, anyway - too thick to be pleasant, she thought. But this skim milk was good.

"Of course." Esme touched Bella's arm lightly before moving away again. "Jasper is very intuitive. He senses emotions, not thoughts." She sliced cleanly through a scrubbed carrot, the sound juicy and crisp. "And before you worry, let me tell you that he's very circumspect. He wouldn't dream about using anyone's emotional state against them. He knew I was worried, because you slept through dinnertime, so he just informed me when he noticed that you were awake."

Bella wondered what he'd been so wrapped up in that he didn't notice she was awake right away. But then she remembered that Alice was his girlfriend, and they lived together. She felt telltale heat prick her cheeks. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they'd probably been doing.

"He can influence emotions, too," Esme went on. "Most of the time, that is. He told me after you fell asleep that he'd tried to help keep you calm during our talk earlier this evening, but he wasn't able to."

"Edward can't hear my thoughts, either," Bella said faintly.

"Yes, he told me." Esme set a plate in front of Bella. It held a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut diagonally in half, and some crisp carrot sticks and red grapes. "You can help me with my grocery list tomorrow," she added. "I'm afraid our kitchen isn't terribly well-stocked right now."

"This is great," Bella said, smiling at the plate of childish food. She picked up a sandwich half and ran her finger along the crust, catching a glob of overspill peanut butter. Putting her finger in her mouth, she licked the stickiness away. This was the mass-market stuff she'd craved as a child - sweet and smooth and just a little salty.

"Alice is intuitive too," Esme said, returning to the earlier subject. Bella listened with her mouth full, happier than she could remember being in a long time as she sat eating a midnight dinner in the light and warmth of the Cullen kitchen, Esme by her side and the murmurs and footsteps of other people occasionally sounding throughout the house. "She has visions of the future."

Bella swallowed a sticky mouthful. "That's amazing," she said, reaching for the bright pile of carrot. "Is she good?"

"The visions change as people make decisions," Esme said. "So she can only be accurate up to a point. And she doesn't see everything."

"What kinds of things does she see?" Bella remembered that she had promised not to pry, but talking about a skill only Alice possessed seemed harmless enough.

"Things about us - our family and friends."

Bella stopped chewing. "Has she seen anything about me?"

"Not much." Esme's voice didn't sound evasive, but Bella couldn't help but notice that the answer had not been  _no, nothing_. "She says she can sometimes see fuzzy visions of you if they also concern someone else in the family." She smiled reassuringly. "Other than that, she has a hard time with you, Bella."

Bella frowned. "Edward can't hear me, Jasper can't feel me, and Alice can't see me. Is there something wrong with me?"

"Not wrong," Esme said, pressing a cold hand to Bella's cheek. "There's nothing wrong with you, baby. Something special, quite possibly. When things calm down we can try some tests, if you're interested. But there's nothing the matter with you. Trust me, Bella."

Bella did. She knew there were ways and ways of bending and hiding the truth, but she had no doubt that Esme would never outright lie to her face. "Do all of you have some sort of gift?" she asked instead.

"I believe everyone on the planet has a special gift, something that sets him or her apart from everyone else," Esme replied. "But the way you mean? No, there's just the three special ones in the family." She smiled. "Playing mother to this household is more than enough for me - I don't think I'd want something extra taking up my time and attention."

They were getting near dangerous waters here, and Bella nibbled at the thin skin of a grape as she struggled for the right words. "Does it make you happy? Being a mom?"

Esme's smile was immediate and warm. "It's all I ever wanted," she said, with such certainty that Bella could do nothing but believe her. "Rosalie mentioned my son, the one I lost."

Bella nodded, feeling uncomfortable. It was hard to see the pain in Esme's eyes when she talked about the baby who had died. She was coming to care a great deal for this loving woman who had taken her into her home with no hesitation whatsoever.

"I wanted him so badly that I stayed in a bad situation longer than I should have." Esme's eyes had gone far away, and Bella knew that look. It was a look not only of remembering, but of grieving for what had been lost and could not be replaced. "When he died, I wanted to die, too." She blinked several times, but no tears fell. Bella thought that was a little strange; she would have pegged Esme for an easy crier. "But Carlisle wouldn't let me." A smile broke across the pain on the older woman's face like a wave smoothing disruptions in the sand.

"You knew him then?"

Esme nodded. "It took a little time before I was ready to trust again - to have that sort of intimate relationship again. But he stood by me every step of the way, and eventually I realized that he was worth a try...and I was, too."

Bella could only stare and marvel at the love on Esme's beautiful face. The way she spoke about Carlisle was the way Bella was beginning - just beginning - to feel about Edward. He was always there when she needed him, rescuing her even from something as outwardly silly as his little sister. He never pushed her to do or say anything she wasn't willing to. He was a calming presence, immensely soothing and...and she didn't know what to do with that. But she liked it. Had Esme once felt this way about Carlisle? The thought gave Bella a tiny, gleaming sliver of hope. Because look at them now. They were married, and they still seemed to be in love. They had a houseful of kids - not biological, but still. They were kind and loving, and...was that really possible? For Esme, for Rosalie...for herself? Bella didn't know. It was just so hard to have certainty.

"Bella?"

The calm voice was Rosalie's. Bella turned, watching as Rose and Emmett entered the house through the back door. They were windblown, but not damp - the rain must have left off for a while.

"Hey, little mouse," Emmett said, not unkindly. Bella knew that term was supposedly a light insult for kids like her, quiet ones that stayed out of the spotlight, but she sort of liked hearing the big bear say it. Something in his warm grin and the lumbering way he moved was almost comical, and things that were funny couldn't also be scary, could they? Bella thought not. Plus, he was a Cullen. Those gleaming gold eyes might unnerve some people, but Bella found them comforting.

"We went to your house," Rose said bluntly. "Your drunk of a father wasn't there." She wrinkled her nose. "How you could stand to live in that reek of booze is beyond me. I bet even Barney's place doesn't smell  _that_  bad."

Bella stared. Had elegant, aloof Rosalie just made a Simpsons reference?

"Anyway," Rose went on, holding up a couple of bags, "we got some stuff for you. Some clothes and bathroom stuff, and your schoolbag. Couldn't find a computer anywhere in your room, but there are plenty in the house you're free to use."

"I didn't have one," Bella said, recognizing one of the bags Rose held as her schoolbag. "Thanks, but you really shouldn't have done that." Bella shuddered. What if Charlie had come home and found Rosalie and Emmett in her room? "He's dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Aw, no worries, little mouse," Emmett said, flashing her a dimpled grin. It wasn't heart-stopping like Edward's lopsided smile, but Bella could see what Rose probably found appealing about it. "Nobody's been able to best me yet, and Rose here is scarier than she looks. Which is saying something."

Bella glanced apprehensively at Rosalie, worried that Emmett's unthinking words might start a fight. She hated to see people fight; it made her so anxious that she wanted to find a place to hide until it was all over. But Rose seemed to view his words as an odd sort of praise, and she merely rolled her eyes at him, a fond smile on her full lips. "We'll leave these in your room, Bella," she said, heading for the stairs.

"Do you play video games by any chance?" Emmett asked, lingering in the kitchen. His eyes were on Bella's plate.

"Never," Bella said, watching him. He didn't look hungry, exactly. Curious, maybe? She looked at her plate - there was about a quarter of a sandwich left, along with a few grapes.

"Never?" Emmett's gaze didn't waver. "Not even old bad ones? Did you ever have a Sega when you were little? Or an old-school hand-me-down Nintendo or anything?"

"Renee said it rotted the brain and was bad for the TV." Bella picked up the piece of sandwich that was left and held it out to him, since he seemed so interested in it. "Bite?"

He blinked, and it looked as if he were seriously considering her offer for a long moment. Then a sheepish smile stole across his face, complete with dimples. "Naw," he said, straightening from where he'd been leaning against the counter. He shot a sideways glance at Esme that Bella was at a loss to interpret. "I know you probably want to sleep and all, but you should let me n Jasper teach you to play sometime."

Bella put the sandwich down, surprised at the ease with which she was speaking to this great hulking beast of a boy. Those dimples probably helped, she thought. Could dimples ever be scary? "There  _is_  one thing I always wanted to try," she admitted slowly. It wasn't quite a video game, but it was along the same lines, at least in her mind.

"What?" Emmett looked as eager as a puppy when you showed it a tennis ball.

Bella felt her face reddening a little. "Pinball."

"Pinball?" Emmett scoffed. "Pinball's  _easy_. It's probably the easiest kind of arcade game there is!"

Not having ever played an arcade game, Bella refrained from commenting.

"Not the way it's supposed to be played!" Rosalie hollered from upstairs. Bella blinked. She really had quite a set of lungs. "You're not supposed to pick up the whole fucking machine and move it around like a giant game of Labyrinth!"

"Says who?" Emmett shouted back.

"Language, please," Esme added, though she didn't sound upset in the least. In fact, it rather seemed like she was enjoying herself.

"The machine! It shouldn't be hollering 'Tilt' at you the whole time!"

When Emmett seemed to have no immediate rejoinder, Bella felt comfortable enough to ask, "What's Labyrinth?" She tilted her head a little. "Like that movie with David Bowie?" That was one pop culture reference she  _did_  understand. Renee was in love with David Bowie. When Bella was young, Renee had teased her about calling the goblins to come and take her away. Bella still couldn't watch the Muppets without a little sense of dread.

"Not exactly," Emmett said. "It's a game. It's..." He crinkled up his cheerful face as he tried to find a way to explain it. "Here," he said finally, beckoning to her without touching. "Edward's got one. It's easier to show than to tell."

"Go on," Esme urged when Bella stalled, worried about her dishes. "Have you had enough to eat?"

"Yes, thank you," Bella said, still hesitant to leave the warm, well-lit kitchen.

"Then go on upstairs," Esme said with a smile. "I'll bring you some tea in a little while."

Bella left, then, obeying Emmett's waving arm. She felt a little disappointed to be leaving Esme's loving presence so abruptly, but Emmett's idea to search out an object that belonged to Edward was intriguing. Would she get to see him again, now, too?

The thought was both welcome and anxious. Bella didn't quite know how she felt about Edward, and she was nervous now that he knew more of her secrets. What would he say? Would his behavior toward her change at all?

Her thoughts slowed her footsteps, and she heard Emmett's amused chuckle as he waited for her at the top of the stairs. "No worries, little mouse," he said, reaching out and tweaking a piece of her hair. Bella fought against the urge to step back - it was the first time Emmett had touched her, and she knew he meant her no harm but it was still unnerving how...how  _touchy-feely_  this whole family was.

"Emmett?" Rose called from a nearby room, poking her head out. "You coming?"

"Just a sec." He led Bella along the hallway to the last door on the right, which was closed. The faint sound of music floated through the door. "Ed!"

Bella wrinkled her nose involuntarily. She didn't like the sound of the shortened name; he was Edward, not Ed or Eddie.

"What?" Edward's smooth voice called back through the door. It sounded irritable, and Bella winced. Had the old Edward returned, the one from before she'd managed to spill rubbing alcohol on herself in biology? Prior to that point, he had more or less ignored her, sitting as far away from her as he could manage with their shared table. Whenever she risked a glance at him, his eyes were dark, his face a shroud of barely-contained anger.

Anxiety began to build in her system, making her joints quiver. Was this the real Edward, then? She'd known he was mercurial in his moods, but the tender way he touched her and the dark velvet of her name in his mouth had made her think that he was really a gentle person - a gentle person perhaps thrust into an untenable situation. But now?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning for this chapter.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

"What?" Edward's smooth voice called back through the door. It sounded irritable, and Bella winced. Had the old Edward returned, the one from before she'd managed to spill rubbing alcohol on herself in biology? Prior to that point, he had more or less ignored her, sitting as far away from her as he could manage with their shared table. Whenever she risked a glance at him, his eyes were dark, his face a shroud of barely-contained anger.

Anxiety began to build in her system, making her joints quiver. Was this the real Edward, then? She'd known he was mercurial in his moods, but the tender way he touched her and the dark velvet of her name in his mouth had made her think that he was really a gentle person - a gentle person perhaps thrust into an untenable situation. But now?

"Cool it, bro," Emmett said, throwing Bella a reassuring grin. "I've got your girlfriend here to see you."

The door was immediately thrown open from inside, a suspicious-looking Edward standing in their way. As soon as his eyes met hers, the suspicion melted away into welcome. "Bella," he said, and his voice was completely different than it had been earlier when he snapped at Emmett.

"Lemme through," Emmett said, pushing past Edward and beckoning Bella to follow him. He scanned the lower shelves of a bookcase; Bella watched from the doorway. She didn't want to enter Edward's space unless he invited her. Emmett's casual wave wasn't quite enough for her. "She wanted to see your labyrinth," he added, throwing the words in Edward's general direction.

"Did you?" Edward's voice was mildly curious, and he offered Bella his hand. Heart beating faster than normal, she took it and allowed him to lead her over the threshold and into his room. He seemed calm now, like the Edward she knew. But what had caused the anger she'd sensed earlier? Would it return? Directed at her? Bella trusted Edward not to hurt her; there was no question about it anymore, and she couldn't explain why. It just was. But she had no trust at all that his hand would continue to curl so alluringly around hers, or that his arms would continue to be a haven for her when she needed someone to lean on.

"Found it!" Emmett crowed. He was on his knees, reaching behind something on a bottom shelf.

"It's kind of a long story," Bella muttered, feeling uncomfortable again, as she had when she'd admitted wanting to play pinball.

Emmett stood, blowing dust off a box and handing it to Edward. "She said she hadn't seen one before, and I remembered you had this." He clapped Edward on the shoulder and headed for the door. "My girl's waiting," he said happily, sauntering more than walking. "See you kids tomorrow."

Edward growled a little, and Bella glanced nervously at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Edward moved to close the door, then turned his head, giving Bella an inquiring look. She melted at that concern. How could someone sweet enough to ask whether it was okay to shut a door possibly be dangerous? She nodded her okay, crossing her legs and lowering herself carefully to the floor. "Emmett's just being...Emmett," Edward finished, though the explanation was less than helpful.

"How so?" Bella asked as she looked at Edward's room for the first time. It was a long, narrow place, mostly white, like the rest of the house. He had a flat screen TV anchored to one wall, and an expensive-looking stereo set among the shelves that lined another wall. The shelves themselves were packed - absolutely crammed - with both books and music. Mainly music. She couldn't read the titles from where she sat, but she could see that there was definite order here, where in Alice's room there was only chaos. His shelves looked messy on first glance, but that was only because they were so full. On closer inspection, Bella could see the obvious order there, and the care that had gone into arranging things just so.

"I'm older than he is," Edward said, sitting near her on the floor, the dusty box in his hand. "We don't look like it, though, and he likes to tease."

That Emmett was a huge clown did not surprise Bella in the least, but Edward's age was news to her. "You're older?" she asked. "Then why - ?"

"It's complicated," he said, and his voice made it clear he didn't want to talk about it. Bella had to comply; she knew that there were plenty of things she didn't want to talk about, either. She certainly wasn't going to push. "Did you want to see the game?"

"It's a game?" she asked, watching his long musician's fingers open the box and pull out what looked like another one, this one wooden. There was a maze, also wooden, inset into the box, and Edward dropped a little silver ball into it.

"Here," he said, showing her pegs on the side. Twisting them made the gameboard move on its axis, tilting to all sides. "The goal is to get from one end to another without falling in those holes."

The holes were everywhere, it seemed; little traps sprinkled through the maze to catch the rolling silver ball if Bella wasn't steady enough to maneuver successfully around them. She was fascinated. Mazes were as old as time itself, and this one was more difficult than it looked. Both hands had to be working together to manipulate the board smoothly. It took a more confident hand than she had, she finally admitted, after about a half hour of attempts.

"You're shaking," Edward told her gently when she finally pushed the game away, admitting defeat. "The key is smoothness." He moved the labyrinth toward her again, and placed his hands on the pegs. "See, feel."

Heart racing, Bella slowly moved to lay her palms lightly on the back of his hands. As always, he was cold to the touch. There was a little flicker of movement in his hands that set the ball in motion, and then he was playing.

It was fascinating to watch the little silver ball traverse the maze while feeling the small motions of Edward's hands under hers. His muscle control was exquisite, and he managed to maneuver the ball through the maze without the sort of wavery, choppy motion that it had exhibited under her control. Sometime during the game, she found her eyes wandering away from the board, looking at her hands pressed lightly against his, and then his arms, lightly skimmed with pale-ish hair, white as marble and just as cold. The sleeves of his t-shirt hung perfectly, and she could just see the edges of his collarbone under the thin cover of cotton. He was clean-shaven, but she could see the ever so slightly darker edge where stubble would grow if he let it. Her eyes traveled up his finely-chiseled jaw, finding the whorl of his ear fetchingly buried amid his messy hair. The odd red-brown color entranced her; she'd never seen it on another person before. Only him; only Edward.

His lips weren't as pale as the rest of him; they were red, almost startling amid his colorless face. She found herself tracing their lines with her eyes, wondering if he would ever kiss her again, now that he knew. He hadn't  _seemed_  to treat her any differently yet, but there was no telling what was going on in his mind. She didn't want his pity. What she did want from him, she didn't know yet. It was too confusing to articulate, even to herself.

Edward grit his teeth, trying to hang on to his last vestiges of control as he sat next to Bella, her warm palms pressed against his knuckles and her eyes on his face. He had no clear idea what she was thinking, which still annoyed him to no end, but he could guess by the racing of her heart and the heat in her hands. The one might signal fear, but not the both together. No, that could only mean one thing.

Edward didn't know what to do. He wanted badly to kiss her, to love her, to do whatever she would allow him to do - touch whatever she would allow him to touch. But at the same time, he was desperately afraid. Afraid that this wasn't the right time. Afraid that he would hurt her. Afraid that he wouldn't be able to control himself if things went too far. Afraid, more than anything, that he would frighten her. Because he absolutely could not bear it if she ever looked at him the way she looked at her father. That terror he'd seen in her eyes when Charlie had walked in on them in her bedroom...Edward didn't know what he'd do if he ever saw that look directed at him.

But her eyes were unafraid when he gathered the courage to look at her. A little anxious, maybe, but unafraid. He stilled his hands under hers, and heard the unmistakable plunking sound of the little silver ball falling through a hole in the game board.

"You lost," Bella whispered.

Edward shook his head infinitesimally. "No," he murmured, moving his hands. He turned them over and slid them slowly up her arms until he was cupping her elbows in a gentle grip. "No, I don't think I did."

The kiss was a foregone conclusion after that, and Edward pulled her gently into his arms as his mouth moved slowly against hers. She was so incredibly warm, her body so pliable as she pressed against him. He leaned back against his chaise, bringing Bella with him. He wanted to move them onto it so she would be more comfortable but he resisted the urge. It was too much like a bed, and he didn't want to frighten her.

What he did want to do was keep kissing her. She eased her mouth away for a moment, breathing heavily, and he groaned quietly when her mouth captured the lobe of his ear, tugging a little, her breath tickling his hair. Her opposite hand slid around his shoulder, leaving a trail of heat as her palm glided across his shirt, her fingers slipping into his hair.

"God, Bella," he managed to say, his forehead buried against her shoulder. "You can have anything - everything you want, for all eternity. Just don't take your hand out of my hair."

Immediately her other hand joined the first, stroking, tugging just a little, and he gasped for air his lungs didn't need, forcing his fingers to be gentle as they fisted in her shirt, gathering up handfuls of the loose material he could safely clutch without fear of hurting her. She placed slow kisses against his ear and then his jaw, dotting a line toward his mouth. Each deliberate touch of her warm, full lips against his skin made his body pulse. Each breath she exhaled against him was the sweetest torture.

Bella unfurled her tongue slowly, hesitantly pressing her mouth against his throat for the first time, tasting the cold skin. He was spicy, and sharp-sweet, like cucumber, maybe, she thought. Something cool and clean. She tasted again, this time letting her tongue press longer against him, a proper lick. He was making fascinating noises, and she used them as clues nudging her in the right direction. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, full of both anxiety and desire. The fear was nothing new - sometimes it felt like she was always afraid, afraid of everything. But the desire was a completely unknown quality. She'd never felt like this about anyone, ever before. And Edward was so gentle, even now. He didn't force her body, and he didn't order her to do anything. Everything she did, she did of her own free will, because she wanted to. And it felt good, she had to admit, feeling safe to explore a man's body in this way. It was so different from her own - cold and hard, knobs of bone and tensing muscles in different places. She ran a hand down his arm, feeling the fist he'd woven into her shirt. He was clutching it so tightly. She stroked his fingers gently, remembering how soothing it had felt when he stroked her hands, encouraging her to loosen her hold on her knees during the panic attack.

He released her shirt, only to sweep her up in his arms, pulling her close and holding her against his chest. Bella felt the hammering of her heart redouble as his mouth found hers again and their lips met and clung, the kiss turning a little desperate as want began to seep through her body. It dripped into her blood, her rapid heartbeat circulating it through her system lightning-fast. Edward's mouth against hers made her tremble. She didn't know how he had this effect on her, but he did. It was impossible to fight. She wanted him.

"Bella." The word was a plea on his lips, and Bella moved her head to kiss him again. His mouth met hers, but he ended the kiss quickly. "Bella," he gasped again, and Bella blinked. Was that not what he had meant? She forced her eyes open, finding liquid gold staring at her beseechingly, so close, so intense. She took a deep breath, trying to focus. "Bella, sweetheart," he said, "we have to stop." In his voice was a yearning ache she understood without any puzzlement.

"Don't want to," she mumbled, reaching for him again.

"Me either, baby," he said, and she heard the heartfelt honesty in his words. "But you're still hurt." He kissed her gently, and then moved to press his lips to her forehead. "Give your body and mind time to heal, Bella." He held her against him, stroking her hair. Bella nestled there, feeling her heart rate slow. She wasn't terribly pleased at being denied, but she couldn't be mad at him. Not when he gathered her so close, his arms holding her securely, like nothing could ever harm her again. "And give me time to do this right," he continued.

"What right?" Bella asked. Things had seemed pretty good to her. But now that the sleek drug of desire was fading from her veins, she could feel how exhausted she still was. She hadn't slept well in ages, it felt like, and it was amazingly soothing to rest against Edward as he held her. She let her eyes close, listening to the comforting rumble of his voice.

"Let me court you properly," he said. "Will you let me, Bella?"

"Mm-hm," she mumbled, wanting nothing more in this moment than to continue to lounge like this, curled in the safety of his arms.

"Are you actually listening to me?" There was amusement in his voice.

"Mm-hm." She snuggled against him, nuzzling his shirt.

"What's ten times ten?"

"Mm-hm."

"Who wrote  _Wuthering Heights_?

"Mm-hm."

He stroked delicate fingers down her side, making Bella jerk and squeal. She raised reproachful eyes to him, gripping the ticklish area with her own hand, hiding it from him.

His eyes were full of laughter - something she'd never seen before. Any irritation, however mild it might have been, instantly fled. He was absolutely beautiful when he looked like that.

"Sorry," he said, attempting to keep a straight face. "But I knew you weren't actually falling asleep."

"How'd you know?" she asked, settling against him again. She tipped her chin up so she could still see his face as she rested against his shoulder.

"I can hear your breathing, and your heartbeat." His voice gentled, and she watched his eyes stray from hers, gliding over her face. "You fascinate me, Bella." His eyes returned to hers and stole away again a moment later, and as his gaze roamed Bella felt her body heat again. She swore she could feel the intensity of his gaze as actual touch, and it made her tremble in his arms. The liquid burn of desire, which she thought had passed, slid through her body again. It pulsed, pooling in her lower abdomen, gentle but insistent.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Edward murmured. His eyes locked to hers again, and there was absolutely no denying what he saw there. She wanted him...but she was also confused. The desire confused her. A surge of possessiveness slid through Edward as his own body lit in response to hers. He was fully aware of the questions she had refused to answer downstairs, and what Rose thought that might mean. But it was crystal clear from her gaze, now, that while her body might not be untouched, her desire  _was_. She had never felt like this about anyone before. "Are you cold?"

Bella shook her head - how could she possibly feel cold with this unfamiliar burn pulsing intently through her body? She raised a shaky hand and cupped Edward's cheek, the cold firmness welcome against her hot palm.

He exhaled a swift breath through his nose. "Not cold?" he asked, raising his own hand to press against hers, holding it to him. "Are you afraid?"

Bella tried to consider the question objectively, but she was drowning in the intensity of his dark yellow eyes. The liquid heat was consuming her, and she yearned for things she couldn't quite name. All she knew was that Edward was here. He was beautiful, and kind, and gentle, and she wanted more of him. Was she afraid? It didn't seem a fair question; she was always afraid of one thing or another. To 443exist for more than five minutes without a pulse of fear was something she had forgotten how to do. But the fear didn't rule her life. If it did, she would never have been able to put Renee's needs ahead of her own and volunteer to live with Charlie. If the fear ruled her, she wouldn't be sitting here in Edward's arms, his eyes drawing lines of heat across her skin.

So was she afraid? Yes. Of many things, some of which she was incapable of naming. But it didn't matter; the fear wasn't going to win this time. So she said the only thing that seemed to make sense - the truth. "I trust you," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. "Edward - please. Love me."

"I do," he replied instantly, but he knew that wasn't what she meant. She wanted to be loved physically - or at least a part of her did. He knew she was still afraid; he could smell a sharp undercurrent of fear on her breath. But it was overpowered by the alluring scent of her desire, which made him feel almost drunk, it was so strong and so delicious. He wanted nothing more than to take her words at face value and lose himself in the warmth of her fragile little body. But a nagging part of him still questioned whether that would be wise. He didn't know how solid his control was - not in a situation like this - and the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. Plus, what if she was really more afraid than she thought? What would that do to their relationship?

But even with his nagging doubts, Edward couldn't stop himself from lowering his mouth to hers. The instant their lips met, he felt a wave of his own desire that was too deep to swim against. He was drowning in it, in need of her, and his kiss, though still gentle, belied his desperation. Bella's arms slipped around him, holding her fragile body against his hard one, and he gripped her lower back, his hands feeling the burn of her warmth even through the folds of the baggy t-shirt she insisted on wearing.

"God, Bella," he managed to gasp, releasing her mouth only to drop his head and find the tender, thin skin covering her collarbone. He didn't dare bite, but he ran his tongue along the sharp line of bone and kissed the hollow of her clavicle. "Beautiful girl, please, wait a moment."

It was as if a door had somehow slammed between them. She shrank away, her eyes dropping and her face belying the obvious rejection that she felt at his words.

"No," he said, holding her firmly, carefully gauging her reaction. If she really tried to move away, he would let go immediately. He never wanted her to feel like her body wasn't fully hers to do with as she pleased. "Bella, sweetheart, listen to me." He touched her jaw, ran a hand to her chin and urged her to look at him. She clearly didn't want to, and as much as he wanted to see her eyes, he dropped the issue. Instead, he pressed his forehead against hers. "You have no idea how much I want you," he murmured, feeling her ragged breaths wash across his face and throat. "But I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to scare you."

Finally she lifted her eyes, and he saw the arguments piling up in her mouth, about to be voiced. Gently, he pressed a finger against her lips, stilling her.

"If you want this," he said, "if you really think you want this, we can try."

Edward felt warmth flow through him as the anxiety in her dark eyes melted away, leaving only affection and desire.

"But Bella, you have to promise me one thing, first."

"What?" she managed to say. Her voice was breathy - he could hear the need plainly in that one syllable. It was plain that her body wanted this. Whether her mind would agree when she was calmer was a different issue. But he had agreed to try, and he wasn't going to take it back now.

"Promise me that you'll tell me if you're afraid, or you want to stop." He looked at her intently, until the pheromone-induced haze in her eyes cleared enough that he believed she was really listening. "I don't want us to regret this later."

"Promise," she whispered, already reaching for him.

And that had to be good enough, because Edward could not deny either of their bodies any longer. This was what they both wanted, and whether or not it was a good time, it was clear that it was happening. "Just a little bit at a time," he crooned gently, as much to himself as to her. His body wanted nothing more than to bury itself in her, but that just wasn't happening right now.

Instead he kissed her again, letting her press herself against him. He stroked down her back, outside her clothes, feeling the heat of her through the material. She was so sweet, so beautiful. He was terrified that he would either hurt or scare her, but this was what they both wanted, it seemed. She lapped hesitantly at his lower lip, then took it between her teeth. He closed his hands around fistfuls of fabric again, pressing forward to kiss her just a little harder. She met him eagerly, her mouth pressing against his, hot and wet and utterly delicious.

They kissed for a long time, and time seemed to stop, to swirl lazily around them as Edward learned the taste of her skin and let Bella do the same. He couldn't describe what her mouth on his neck or shoulder felt like, and he almost lost it when her hands dropped to the hem of his t-shirt and slipped under it, sliding warm and sweet against his abs and sides. Not wanting to scare her, he lifted the hem of his shirt carefully, slowly drawing it off his body. Instantly her eyes were on him, and he let her look, wondering how she felt about what she saw.

She licked her lips thoughtfully, her eyes returning to his with a question in them. "Can I touch you?" she asked hesitantly.

Edward had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes that she even had to ask. "God, yes," he said. He ducked his head, finding her ear and breathing deliberately against it before taking the lobe gently into his mouth, sucking on the velvet skin.

Bella whimpered - not a sound of fear or pain, but a sound of want. It bled through him and he shifted slightly, trying to ease the growing pressure in his jeans. Bella's soft hands stroked slowly up his torso, her fingertips running over every divot, each defined muscle. "You're beautiful," she murmured, settling sideways against him, one arm slipping to his back and the other tracing patterns across his chest. Edward gathered her into his arms and stood, his mouth finding hers reassuringly as he moved them off the floor and onto his chaise longue. "I'm sorry," he whispered against her mouth, "that I don't have a bed to make you more comfortable. For now, this will have to do."

She relaxed back into the curve of the chaise, reaching for him, and he could only stare at the sight before him - Bella, dark hair haloed around her porcelain skin, reclining on  _his_  chaise, in  _his_  room, her hands holding his, pulling him toward her. Her eyes were dark with desire, a pale rose flush that had absolutely nothing to do with embarrassment lighting her complexion. He swallowed hard before reaching forward and pressing his mouth to hers again, unable to keep away. One of her hands wandered into his hair, trying to pull him closer. Still he hesitated to join her, and he leaned back just a little bit, enough to see her eyes. "Which is your hurt shoulder, sweetheart?" he asked. He knew that he could probably remember if he thought hard enough about it, but that just wasn't happening right now. His brain wasn't allowing him to access that sort of information.

She touched the right one, hesitantly rolling it as if to test its range of motion before her face drew up in a wince of pain.

"Shh," he soothed, draping himself carefully on her left side. "Don't hurt it more. I just wanted to know which arm to be careful of."

She rolled toward him, onto her left side, as he suspected she might. He hadn't wanted her to put pressure on the painful shoulder, which was the main reason he'd asked before settling onto the chaise with her.

"It's not that bad," she said, sliding both arms around him, pulling her body flush against his. Edward kissed the sore shoulder, not knowing exactly where he might be able to touch to soothe the healing joint. He should have paid better attention in anatomy class. Regardless, he didn't want to hurt her any more than she already was. He pressed a kiss to her mouth, gentle, questioning. She responded as sweetly as she always had - the move off the floor didn't seem to have bothered her. Though he had noticed that she had not offered her room down the hall, with its ample bed, as an alternate space. He rather thought he liked that; it showed that she was beginning to think of that room as her own, a place where she could be alone and keep other people out. He was also unsure whether his family members would respect their privacy if they knew he was in there with her. But his room was sacrosanct; they would not open the door unless he invited them. Every one of them knew better than that.

Bella's hands glided slowly across his skin, her mouth busy with his as she learned his chest, his arms, his shoulders and throat, like Braille. Edward held an unneeded breath in his lungs, not daring to breathe, when she moved her lips away from his and began trailing them down his throat, then his chest. Her face moved like her fingers had - warm, slow, a little hesitant - as she traced her mouth along the sleek planes of his skin, stopping to give frequent kisses or nuzzle against him. She adjusted her body on the soft chaise, and as she moved, the palm of one hand inadvertently brushed a flat nipple. Edward couldn't help the sound of desire that flew past his lips, and she immediately froze, her body becoming immobile.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, dropping her hands and moving away from his bare skin. "I didn't mean - "

If his heart still pumped, Edward knew it would be hammering as he caught her wrist loosely and held it. "Sweetheart, no," he said, bringing her hand back to his chest. "Do that again."

She raised a doubtful face to his. "That feels good?"

"Shit,  _yes_."

Bella moved her hand, running her palm lightly over his nipple again, this time on purpose. He closed his eyes, savoring the light, hesitant touch. She replaced her palm with one small, warm thumb, pressing ever so gently, then rubbing the soft pad slowly against the little nub. He growled low, snaking his head forward to find her lips, but she eluded him.

"Really?" She still looked doubtful.

"Why does that surprise you, Bella?" he asked, fighting to retain enough control to continue to converse with her.

She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes and hands dropping away from him.

Instantly Edward had her in his arms again. He pulled her head carefully against his shoulder, letting her hide as they lay side by side. He stroked her hair with one hand, easing his fingers through the silken strands while his other palm rubbed her lower back. He didn't have to ask why his pleasure surprised her. Anger boiled deep in his chest, but he shoved it back. His rage wouldn't help her now.

"You're doubtful because someone touched you," he murmured against her hair. "Someone touched you, and it hurt."

She flinched at his words. "How did you - ?"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, sweetheart." He kissed her hair and accommodated her as best he could as she pressed against him, seeking comfort. "Bella, if we're going to do this, you have to trust that I won't hurt you.  _And_  that I won't lie to you."

"I do trust you."

He took a deep breath - he could still smell her desire, and it was a potent, heady drug. "But you still doubt." Holding her arms, he eased himself far enough away that he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, and he kissed her eyelids gently. "Let me prove it to you."

She opened her eyes, and Edward felt like he was drowning in warm, dark velvet. Her gaze was candid, waiting. Slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away if she wished, he slid his hand up her side, under her baggy shirt. Her tender skin was hot silk under his hand, and he curled his fingers around her ribs, pausing for a moment to gauge her fear. She was not pulling away, and her eyes still held to his. Edward savored the feel of her heart beating so quickly under her skin, and he slid his hand a little further up, tracing the line of her bra. Her eyes flickered, but she did not pull away. Finally he moved, his hand slipping to fully cup her breast through the fabric of her bra. Her body told the same story as her eyes: her nipple was firm against his palm. He held his hand still for a moment, then moved his fingers, stroking - not kneading her supple flesh or pinching the hardened nipple.

"Touch should never hurt," he murmured, shifting his hand and letting his thumb rub softly across the raised knot. "Not when it's done right."

She exhaled slowly, releasing a tension that he knew had come from fear that his hands would, in fact, hurt. Her eyes fluttered and tried to close, and she tipped her head back, a small smile of surprised pleasure hovering along the corners of her mouth as she settled to her back against the soft contours of the chaise longue. "Oh..." she said, and Edward stopped breathing as her body moved, arching further into his touch. He pressed his hand a shade firmer and, hoping it would be all right, lowered his head to her other breast. Her heart hammered against her chest so hard that he could easily hear it as he pressed his lips against the small, firm handful. Though she was still wearing all of her clothes, her body still warmed his lips when he kissed her. Sliding his mouth against the old cotton shirt, he found the little bump of nipple and closed his lips around it, rubbing gently, nodding his head ever so slightly. Her hands found his hair again and he settled against her, supporting most of his weight on his free hand, losing himself to the exquisite heat of her touch. She tugged at his hair, a little harder than normal, and he raised his eyes questioningly, hoping he hadn't frightened her.

Her smoky eyes looked hesitant, when his met them, but not afraid. "You took your shirt off," she whispered.

God, he wanted her hands to continue stroking through his hair. He blinked several times, attempting to focus. What exactly was it she was trying to say? "Yes," he agreed. "I did."

"Does that mean you...want me to?"

 _Oh_. Edward tried a smile that he hoped was reassuring. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, love," he said, though he was dying to know what that silky skin looked like in the dim light of his room.

"It's not that." She shifted, her stomach fluttering against him as she took a deep breath. "It's just..." Her face colored. "My scars. You'll see them."

It was true, and there was no way for him to reasonably deny it. "I will," he agreed. "And they will make me angry, Bella, but not at you. Never at you."

"But - "

He pushed himself up to kiss her, cutting off her argument. "Not angry at you, sweet girl." Edward tried to smile, though something inside him hurt. It wasn't fair that she was afraid because of this. "Sweetheart, is that why you don't like to wear clothes like Alice and Rose?"

She nodded slowly, dropping her eyes. "I hate for people to see."

Edward kissed her again, then stroked along her bare forearm, finding a bruise. He kissed it. "I'll see them," he said, "and I'll kiss them all, and wish you had never been hurt - each time. But they don't make you any less beautiful, love."

Bella shook her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Why do you say things like that?"

"Like what?"

She gave a short laugh that made Edward melt. He wished it were a tangible thing he could sweep up and keep forever. "How come you're so  _nice_?"

It was a more valid question than Bella knew. Edward felt it touching him, the truth of those words. Because he did not believe he  _was_ nice, did not believe he  _was_  good, no matter what she said. But the answer to her more immediate query was obvious, and Edward kissed her, his hands at her waist. "Because you deserve everything that's good and gentle," he said. "And because I don't want you to go."

"I'm not going anywhere at the moment," she breathed, and her hands slowly came up, holding the hem of her shirt. Edward could only stare as, inch by inch, the perfect porcelain of her skin was revealed. She sat up slightly, letting him help her pull the fabric from her arms, before settling back, her eyes on him.

"Bella," he whispered, "Bella, good god, you're gorgeous."

Her blush touched almost everything he could see, from her belly button to her collarbone, up the delicate sweep of her throat, staining her cheeks. She was absolutely perfect. He watched her stomach move as she breathed, and he traced one slow, hesitant fingertip across the line of her lowest rib. She was thin, poor thing, but so beautiful.

"Rosalie is gorgeous," she tried to argue.

"Rosalie is Rosalie." Edward lowered his head and kissed her stomach, running his nose in a slow circle around her belly button. Her skin was softer than anything he'd ever touched before, and her scent rose from it in alluring waves. "You, Bella, are precious. Absolutely perfect."

She squirmed under him, her skin growing even redder. "I'm already here," she said, her voice tremulous. "You don't have to say things like that to me."

Edward knew exactly what she was talking about, but now was not the time to argue with her over her self-esteem. He knew enough about poor self image to know that his words would do nothing to change her mind, anyway. "Actually," he said instead, pressing slow, deliberate kisses up her belly and across her ribs, "I believe I do." Unable to resist, he touched his tongue to the underside of one soft, milky breast, tracing the enticing curve. Everything about her body drove him mad with desire - the pale cream of her skin, baby-soft under his careful hands, and the scent of her, the way she moved with him, almost graceful despite her lack of coordination. Careful to keep his teeth away from her too-tender flesh, he took one rose-colored nipple into his mouth, tongue meeting skin for the first time.

She exhaled sharply, a barely-audible whine keening in her breath, and she twisted underneath him - probably without conscious thought - until his mouth hit exactly where her body wanted it, his tongue laving gently, carefully, at the hardened nub. Edward placed a hand on her hip, splaying his fingers across the waistline of her borrowed khakis. He kneaded her flesh gently, coaxing her body to relax a little more. After a long minute he forced his mouth away from her tempting body, raising his eyes to meet hers.

"Tell me how you feel, Bella, sweetheart," he coaxed, though her eyes were closed. "I can't read your mind."

The corners of her mouth twitched, curving into a smile, and she opened heavy eyes. Her expression was too lovely, and Edward had to pull himself forward to kiss her.

"There aren't words," Bella whispered, and she meant it. Her insides kept going from calm to churning and back again, with very little rhyme or reason as far as she could tell. His mouth was delicious, and she craved the taste of him. His arms offered the ultimate refuge, where she felt safe and comforted. His voice was dark velvet, and his hands - his  _hands_  drove her insane. Her heart was beating what felt like five times its normal rate and it sped further, almost humming, whenever he deliberately put his hands on her.

Was she still afraid? Bella turned on her side again, curling into the haven of Edward's arms. She felt his skin on hers for the first time, wonderfully cool and almost tingly, the electricity firing between every inch she touched. He held her willingly, his hands tracing slow, delicious patterns across her back, and she pressed herself to his firmness, hearing her heart beat against the still wall of his chest. He put his lips against her hair, her forehead - anything he could reach - with slow, deliberate care. Bella had no doubt that she had never before been so loved, so cherished. And yes, she was still afraid. Edward's hands and mouth on her breasts caused unexpected jolts of pleasure where she had braced for the possibility of pain, but that didn't mean her fears had all disappeared. Just because he did not tweak or pinch, or bite cruelly, did not mean other acts, other body parts, would not hurt. There was still plenty of opportunity for pain.

As that knowledge drew to the forefront of her mind, Bella felt her body begin to seize with fear. She pressed herself closer to the cold reality of Edward, seeking the scent of his clean skin. He would not hurt her, she told herself firmly. He had told her that it was up to her, that if anything hurt, they could stop.

The problem was, she reflected, that she didn't want to stop. Nobody had ever touched her like this before - with such care and attention to her wants and needs. Her body pulsed with the new, exciting drive of desire. Never before had she wanted touch, but now she knew - she wanted Edward. Wanted him to touch her, wanted to know what it was like to give herself willingly to someone else. And while the rational part of her mind argued that it was too soon, that she hardly knew him, the bigger part of her didn't care.

As she cuddled against him, Edward took a moment to steady his resolve. He scented an undercurrent of fear from her - the bitter aftertaste, like garlic gone stale - and made the decision that they could not possibly continue on to actual intercourse. Not tonight. It was too much too soon, and while she would probably be game, he didn't want to push. All things would come in time. He had not anticipated her assumption that sexual touch would hurt, and the realization had shaken him badly. Knowing what Rose suspected was different than actually seeing the effect of it in front of him - a girl so used to pain that she accepted it as a fact of life. Edward wrestled with his own desires as he held her, but he knew her needs would ultimately win out. Later - soon, perhaps - they would be able to find mutual satisfaction. For now, it had to be about her.

And there was one more thing he wanted desperately to do tonight, but he didn't know how willing she would be. He hated that smell of fear on her, and wished that it were possible to touch her without it. Maybe if they kept working on it, he thought. Not that he'd mind the task in the least.

"Sweet girl," he murmured into her hair, "I want to ask you something."

She nuzzled his chest, tickling his sparse hair with her nose.

Edward chuckled gently, his hands moving in what he hoped were soothing patterns against her back. "Baby, I know you've been hurt. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. It's not right, and I hate that it happened to you. But can I ask you a question?"

She nodded, her nose still buried against his chest, breathing him in deeply.

"Have you ever felt pleasure, Bella?"

"Tonight," she said, answering easily, her tongue stroking the firm line of his clavicle.

Edward swallowed hard; she was not making this easy. "But before tonight? Bella, have you ever had an orgasm?"

Her body tensed at the clinical term, and Edward rubbed her back in commiseration. He understood how she felt; it wasn't a very pretty word. It sounded like someone swallowing a coin or something. Slowly he felt her shake her head against his shoulder.

"Somehow I didn't think so." He kissed her hair again, inhaling the subtle fragrance of her shampoo. "There's no romantic way to say this, but Bella, I'd like to try to give you one. If you'll let me. I want you to know how good your body can feel."

She squirmed against him. "I don't know if I can," she said, her voice wary.

"I think you can," he replied, continuing to stroke the silken skin of her back. "Let me try? It will feel good, sweetheart, I promise you."

Her nod was almost imperceptible, but it was there nonetheless. Edward took a breath and held it, counting slowly to thirty, then forty, in his head. He had no wish to rush anything, and he was already testing his control. He gently lowered her back onto the chaise, holding her eyes the entire time.

"If you get uncomfortable, sweetheart, just tell me," he said. "Please don't be afraid."

"I'm not," she said, and in context he believed her. She was not afraid to tell him to stop, which made him very glad.

With gentle fingers, Edward traced a line between her breasts. He stroked down her stomach toward her belly button, and let his hand hover above the clasp to her khakis. "May I?"

She looked impossibly fetching, her dark hair spread around her and the flush of sexual desire touching her white skin with rose. Her right arm lay by her side - presumably where it hurt her shoulder least - but her left elbow was bent, her hand near her head, a strand of hair curled loosely around one finger. For a moment Edward wished it was  _his_  hair twirled in her grasp, but he sternly banished the thought. She nodded, her eyes never leaving him, and he lowered his head to kiss the juncture of skin and fabric before undoing the clasp and slowly sliding the zipper down.

"Gently now," he murmured, "don't hurt your shoulder." She nodded, raising her hips willingly as he slid the borrowed pants off her legs. Inch after inch of sleek, creamy skin was exposed to his sight, and Edward could do nothing but stare. He idly wondered what it would take to cajole her to visit Esme's island with him, just the two of them. And then how much begging it would take for her to agree never to put pants on, the entire trip. Her legs were slender and firm, delicately muscled under his hands as he slid the fabric off of them. The feel of them under his palms - a different texture than her stomach or back - made him want those legs wrapped around him.  _Soon_ , he scolded himself.  _Not now, but soon_. If he could ease her fear now, it would make the next step that much easier.

He left her blue patterned underwear where it was for the moment, taking hold of one delicate ankle and urging her to place her foot in his lap. She bent her knee slightly, her eyes still on him. Her breathing had sped up in a rhythm that bespoke anxiety, and Edward hastened to soothe it. "God, you're beautiful," he told her, some of the most honest words he could remember speaking. Now that she lay before him in nothing but a pair of girl's bikini-cut underwear, he could see not only her beauty but also the scars that marked her porcelain skin. If she turned onto her belly, he knew he would see more. He'd felt some under his fingers as he stroked her back, but hadn't asked to see them. It didn't matter, at this point. One thing at a time.

Now he began touching her slowly, his fingers and palms sliding up her leg, making slow sweeps from her ankle to her knee and back again. He kneaded the slender muscle of her calf carefully, hearing her pleased hum as his hands loosened her anxious muscles. He tickled his fingers at the back of her knee, making her giggle, and he melted at the sound. Ever so easily, a fingerbreadth at a time, he drew his hands up her calf and then her thigh, tender and slow. He kissed the top of her leg, not daring at the moment to move his mouth to the inside, where one of his hands stroked. She was allowing the hand, but his entire head between her knees would likely be frightening. Though he longed to taste her, he refrained. All in good time.

Her legs were not particularly open, but neither were they clasped firmly together. Edward stilled his hands as he drew near the line of her last remaining clothing, and found her eyes with his. "I won't hurt you, Bella," he said.

"I believe you," she whispered back, and with that reassurance Edward moved his hand, stroking one crooked finger across the flat, exposed line of her underwear. She was so hot here, even through the fabric. The touch of her seared his skin and made his insides burn, yearning for more. She closed her eyes, whether from the sensation or an embarrassed anxiousness Edward couldn't say. He decided to try to keep her underwear on, to give her that semblance of cover. He moved his hands back to her thighs, urging her to part them more. She did, but not much. Edward wasn't about to complain; if that was all she was willing to do, that was fine.

God, he thought as he slid his fingers slowly across the fabric between her legs. It was damp, and the scent of her arousal was beyond maddening. "Just relax," he told her, willing himself to do the same. She sucked in a deep breath the minute his fingers touched her, and he continued to press gently against the fabric only, letting her get used to the feeling of his touch. "Touch should feel good," he said, knowing he had spoken the words before. Talking helped control his own desire, and he needed every ounce of self-control he could muster to continue touching her. He ran his fingers down the impossibly soft inside of her thighs, just at the edge of her underwear. She shivered, her breathing picking up again...but this time the rhythm had absolutely nothing to do with fear. Feeling hopeful, Edward repeated the movement and then slowly, very slowly, slipped two fingers underneath the fabric.

Her breath caught in her throat, and Edward swallowed convulsively, forcing his entire body to still. He began counting frantically again, grasping at the last threads of his control as her wetness coated his fingertips. Here she was hot, wet silk, so slick, so smooth. Blinking rapidly, Edward stared at her expression.

If he'd thought she looked lovely before, it was nothing compared to how she looked now. Her head had tipped back, exposing a length of white throat that pulsed as she breathed and swallowed. Her mouth was open just slightly, and her stomach rose and fell quickly with her panting breaths.

"Shit, Bella," he managed to grind out between his gritted teeth, but no other words would come. Her hands, curled into loose fists, clenched and unclenched, one in her hair and one at her side. Slowly, not knowing what might hurl him to the edge of control again, Edward allowed his hand to move.

Her underwear made things somewhat more difficult than otherwise, but he'd made the decision and he wasn't removing his hands from her body in order to rectify the situation. Not now. He moved his fingers along the swollen folds of her most tender flesh, learning her as she learned herself, using the tempting noises she made like a road map. "Good - so good, sweetheart," he murmured, knowing his words made absolutely no sense, but not caring. He was usually a man of few words but in this moment he felt the need to talk, to keep connected with her mind even as he put his hands on her body. "Now, baby, try to relax..." He moved his fingers slowly upward, searching for her clit...

With a small, strangled cry, her hips jerked quickly under his hand. There it was. Edward felt a little smug as he found it again, using the lightest touch to stroke the sensitive bundle of nerves. She gasped, her head thrown back, her back arched up off the chaise. "That's it," he said, unsure now if he was talking to Bella or himself. "That's it. Just let go and feel." He palmed one firm breast with his free hand, remembering only to touch her gently.

Bella felt her head spinning as new sensations swirled through her body. The way he touched her was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. His hands were gentle but insistent, and as he rubbed slow, wet circles around her clit - something she'd learned about, academically, in sex ed but never thought to investigate on her own body - her muscles began to fire with almost electrical shocks, pleasant pops of sensation thrumming through her entire self. She wanted - it made her want - she didn't know. She had no words for these sensations, no code of reference for what was happening. It was intense pleasure, overwhelming but so good. It hovered on the edge of too much but never quite crossed the line.

His other hand was on her breast, stroking, rubbing his thumb on her nipple. Occasionally it would move to touch her hip or press against her panting belly. Not once did he attempt to restrain her. He was talking, but his words did not penetrate the haze of half-mad desire that pulsed through her body. Her entire nervous system throbbed, needing, demanding - something. And then the sensation changed. It still felt good, but it centered, swirling down, deep into her abdomen. She bleated, unable to stop the keening, pleading noises that were coming from her mouth, though she wasn't at all sure what she was pleading for. Everything began to tighten, to pull inward, the throbbing deepening, solidifying into an almost tangible force...

...and then, with little warning, Bella absolutely exploded. A deep rush of pure pleasure shot from her sex into every inch of her body, filling her with a tingling, pulsing warmth. Her vision blacked momentarily, and she felt like she was falling...soaring...she didn't know which, and didn't care. She had never dreamed that anything could feel like this - so strong, so elemental, and so  _good._  So goddamned, fucking good.

Vaguely, Bella felt Edward's hands withdraw from her body. She lay for a moment, unsure where he might be, and then he was back, taking her in his arms, wrapping a soft blanket around them both. She felt her body mold to his like putty as he leaned back and let her curl around him, fitting to his side and chest, her head finding a perfect spot on his cool shoulder. She rested her flaming cheek there, feeling the delicious chill of his skin against hers.

Long minutes later, she roused herself enough to murmur, "What was that?"

He chuckled, and Bella could feel the rumble of his laugh under her hand. "That, sweet Bella," he said, "was the opposite of pain."

She laughed a little, feeling how tired her body was. "Imagine that."

He kissed her hair and tightened his arms, trying to draw her closer though that was impossible. "Now you see what I mean," he said. "Touch should feel good."

"Mm-hm," she mumbled sleepily, not joking this time.

Edward heard the fatigue in her voice at once. "Sleep, love," he said, unable to resist the name. "You've had a long day, and you need it."

"Don't want to."

He laughed again, delighted with her teasing. "Your body wants to. I can feel how tired it is."

There was nothing Bella could say to that; it was undeniably true. She nestled against him, feeling sleep tugging at her consciousness but unwilling to let this moment fade so quickly. "Thank you," she said, unable to find any other words.

"No," he contradicted, "thank  _you_. Do you have any idea how amazing you are?"

Bella shifted, shrugging against him. "I'm just me."

"And just you' is just perfect." He kissed her hair again, then raised her hand and kissed the palm, tucking her fingers around the kiss. Bella smiled against his skin; he had to be absolutely the sweetest boy ever.

"Stay with me?" she asked hesitantly. She'd never slept in anyone's arms before, but this seemed to be a day of firsts. And there wasn't any truth stronger than this one, for her in that moment: she didn't want him to go.

"As long as you like," he responded, and he sounded very serious.

"Mm," Bella said, a small smile framing her lips as sleep began to drag her under. "That might be a while."

"Not a problem," he whispered, unsure when exactly she fell fully asleep and was unable to hear him. "Not a problem at all."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning for this chapter.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

"Rosie?"

Rosalie turned toward Emmett, hearing the hesitation in his voice. "Babe?"

He toyed with a DVD in his hand, and Rose felt her heart go out to him. He was so dense sometimes, but also incredibly sweet. Now his troubled face made her climb onto his bed, and she cupped his cheeks in her hands, holding him still. She stroked his face with her thumbs gently. His dimples curved under her touch, and she smiled back at him.

"Want to tell me what's troubling you?"

"I was hoping you'd answer that question for me." Emmett moved swiftly, sweeping her into his arms from her kneeling position. She laughed, letting him hold her to his chest. Normally she didn't like to feel babied, but if it made Emmett happy she'd allow it for now.

"My hero," she teased, chuckling and pressing her forehead to his. "Now will you tell me what's up?"

Emmett considered for a moment, but before he could open his mouth they distinctly heard the sound of a low, needy growl from Edward's room. Rose grimaced.

"Time to go," Emmett said with a grin. He readjusted his arms around Rosalie and jumped.

They were on the topmost tier of roof within a human heartbeat, the sounds from within no longer audible even to their vampire ears. They settled on the slightly-sloped shingles, and Rose took a deep breath, enjoying the damp wind. "We may have to use my room more often from now on," she said, settling on her side and propping her head up on her hand. "Farther from Edward's."

"But closer to Esme's," Emmett countered.

Rose shrugged. "Six of one, half dozen of the other." She pulled Emmett down by his sleeve and he sprawled on his back, hands clasped behind his head. "Now will you tell me what's wrong?"

"Not wrong really." He sighed a little bit. "Babe, it just..." He paused, searching for words.

Rosalie smiled inwardly. God, she knew him so well. Knew enough to know that he sometimes lacked the ability to vocalize what he was feeling, and she touched his shoulder gently. "That was a pretty intense story we heard from Bella tonight."

He blew out, his cheeks puffing with the exhalation. "Shit," he said, "I don't know what to do. Feels like we should be doing something, though, you know?"

"Oh, we will," Rose vowed. "There will be blood." Her voice left no doubt in Emmett's mind that she meant it.

"How are you feeling, though, babe?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean, after everything and all...hearing that must've been..."

Rose smiled and rolled over on top of Emmett, her legs falling to either side of his waist. She stopped his words with her mouth, kissing him firmly. "I'm fine."

"But - "

"Honest, Em, I'm fine." She peppered kisses across his jaw and down his throat, then latched her razor-sharp teeth on the ribbed collar of his t-shirt and pulled. The thin cotton gave like wet paper, tearing a strip out of the shirt as wide as her mouth as she dragged down his body. He laughed, watching her without moving.

Rosalie kissed his finely-muscled stomach, her tongue darting out to lap at his skin and the sleek line of dark hair that led to the waistband of his black jeans. She didn't know if she could ever get tired of Emmett's body. He was Royce's complete opposite. Where Royce had been wiry - small and rodent-like, she thought now - Emmett was a big man. He wore his size with a touch of awkwardness, like an adolescent Great Dane that has not quite grown into itself - a result of his youth when he was changed, as well as his general demeanor. Emmett was not a violent person; in fact, Rose thought, he was probably one of the sweetest men she'd ever met. Even Jasper, for all his Southern charm, had a hard, implacable edge to him that Emmett lacked.

She understood why he worried. While he hadn't been with her right after her attack, she had shared enough with him that he understood how difficult some of those days had been for her. How hard it was to cope not only with the aftereffects of such a brutal rape, but also with her newfound life as a vampire. It was something she hadn't wanted and even now did not particularly welcome. Emmett understood that, no matter how much she loved him, she would rather things hadn't worked out this way. She would have rather died in that alley than become what they were now.

But that couldn't be changed, and Rose allowed herself, for the moment, to be glad of that fact. Because even though she knew what she would pick, given the choice, the choosing itself would hurt immensely. It would mean giving up Emmett, and that wasn't something she was entirely sure she could do. He meant the world to her. Literally. Without him, she would long ago have marched to Italy and demanded that the Volturi end her unnatural life. But she did have him, and he made this life bearable. Enjoyable, even. She smiled, nuzzling the firmness of his abs. She loved the smell of him, the feel of his solidity under her hands and teeth and tongue. Royce and his friends had robbed her of innocence, in the literal sense of the word - had robbed her of the sweet, trusting nature that had overlain the harder parts of her personality. But they had not been able to rob her of her desire, and for that she was ever grateful. She unbuttoned Emmett's jeans with a careless flick of her hand, then dragged the zipper slowly down with her teeth. She felt him chuckle, felt the way his body tensed and relaxed as she touched him. He was warm to her undead touch, and she smiled.

"Does that mean we're done talking?" he asked innocently as she reached inside his boxers, guiding the quickly-hardening length of him into the open air.

"Talk away, if you like." She licked her lips, feeling a hunger growing within her that had absolutely nothing to do with blood. "I can walk and chew gum at the same time."

He laughed, the sound cut off suddenly as she lowered her head and licked him. She swirled her tongue around the head of his swelling cock, loving the groan of pleasure she wrung from him. She knew his body so well by now, knew just how to touch him to get the desired result. Right now what she wanted most was to touch him, to give him pleasure, to watch as his body moved and shuddered. He was sweet and loving, careful and tender of her when he thought she might be vulnerable. At times she scoffed at his attempts to protect her - she was virtually indestructible, after all - but she loved him for it all the same.

Now she slid her mouth over the length of him, taking him in and bobbing her head as she squeezed the base of his cock gently, rhythmically. He thrust his hips up toward her, unable to keep still. She chuckled, the sound buzzing against his flesh, and he moaned.

"Fuck, babe," he panted, grabbing hold of a row of shingles with his flexing hands. The hard material crumbled in his fingers as he scrabbled for something to hold on to. He never held her head when she went down on him - that was one of Rose's only bedroom rules, and he never broke it. She didn't know whether her dislike of being held in that position was inborn or a result of her last moments as a human, and she didn't really care. That he respected her enough to obey her wishes was all that mattered.

He came quick and hard, with a strangled cry that Rose hoped Bella would attribute to some woodland creature if she heard it. The rest of the house's inhabitants knew better, but they were inured to Rose and Emmett's nocturnal habits by now. Living in such close proximity, it was impossible to keep everything private. Couples-only trips to Isle Esme and some of the family's other properties helped keep frustrations at bay, and now that Edward seemed to have found his mate - if the noises coming from his bedroom were anything to go by - there was nothing to cause guilt in heading away for some alone time now and then.

Rose felt herself being yanked forward, and she laughed as Emmett's hungry mouth landed vaguely in the vicinity of hers. He licked and bit at her lips and chin as he held her above him, his still-hard cock seeking her entrance. Rose reached down, guiding him into her, sinking onto him with a satisfied purr. A smile flashed across his face, his dimples flickering to life, and he began to purr, too, the sensual noises rising and falling in tandem with their movements. Rose kissed him fiercely, her fingers finding his dark hair as one of his hands snaked between them, his thumb rubbing her aching clit with just the right amount of pressure. "Mmm..." she mumbled into his mouth, halting the purr for just a moment. "Yup. I picked a good one."

He play-growled, flicking her clit lightly before resuming the circular rubbing motion that sent waves of pleasure shooting through her body. "I never did manage to thank that bear."

* * *

Esme released a sigh of fond exasperation as she heard the pebbly, crumbling sound of shingles breaking, small bits falling from the roof above their heads. She'd hoped having her room on the top floor of the house would give her at least a semblance of privacy, but tonight that just wasn't happening. She was just glad she couldn't actually hear the sounds of what she knew was going on up there.

She  _had_ , however, heard the unmistakable sounds of intimacy coming from Edward's room as she mounted the stairs just a little while earlier. She wasn't sure what to think about it. While she was happy for Edward, she wasn't at all sure that this was the right time for them to be consummating this very new relationship. Bella looked terrible - it was clear she had not been sleeping well. And that ordeal earlier this evening had taken a lot out of her. The poor child, Esme thought, as she sat at the little desk in her room, staring at electronic blueprints on her laptop and trying to concentrate. If she really wanted to work she'd go to her studio across the hall, but she didn't think she'd be able to focus any better in there. Her mind kept returning to Bella.

The story Bella related to them earlier was disturbing to say the least. Esme hadn't at all liked the dead, monotone sound of the child's voice as she spoke, recounting one painful incident after another. She'd glanced questioningly at Carlisle, who indicated that he'd answer any questions later, once Bella couldn't hear them. Part of Esme railed at that; she didn't want to talk about Bella behind the girl's back. But she understood what he meant. Talking clinically around her would likely not go well at the moment. She was too raw to understand and accept Carlisle's professional objectivity. Though Esme knew that where Bella was concerned, it was exceedingly difficult for Carlisle to remain objective. The shy little human had got under his skin, as she had with all of the Cullen family members. His innate parenting instincts - so strong, especially for someone who had never had biological children of his own - took over with Bella. He was still a doctor, yes. But it was becoming harder and harder for him not to see her as one of the "kids," and he couldn't hide that from Esme. She knew him too well for that. It had hurt him deeply to acquiesce to Bella's request and take her home yesterday. He wanted her here, where she was safe and cared for.

Esme did, too.

She puttered around her room, trying to kill some time. Carlisle was still in his office, and she didn't want to bother him when he might potentially be on the phone with someone who could help Bella. Esme glanced at a clock - it was nearing two in the morning. She didn't know how likely it was that CPS had someone on-call twenty-four seven, but would he still be in his office if he hadn't been able to locate anyone?

Finally deciding that she wasn't doing any good pacing her bedroom, Esme slipped down a flight of stairs to the second floor. All was quiet in Edward's room now. She stepped toward Carlisle's office, then hesitated. A sudden thought made her pace toward the guest room that had been set up for Bella, and she cautiously opened the door.

The room was dark, and she didn't need to turn on the light to know that nobody was in there. It  _felt_  empty, and she could hear neither breathing nor heartbeat. And while the luscious scent of Bella lingered, it was not strong enough for her to actually be in the room. That could only mean one thing. Esme shut the door, pursing her lips. She didn't know what to think, and it disturbed her that she couldn't be more definitive about this. She  _wanted_  to be happy for her son - she desperately wanted to. He'd been alone so long, so quiet, so wrapped up in his anger and isolation, and now it seemed like...like a light had been switched on. Like the appearance of Bella Swan had given him something besides himself to think about. To  _care_  about. But Bella was damaged - anyone who had seen her in the living room telling her story could have seen that. You didn't even have to hear the words to know how broken the child was. So small, so fragile... Esme shook her head. Rosalie was right; Edward didn't know how to help a girl like Bella. Not really. And yet...and yet...she'd seen him pull her out of that panic attack. She saw with her own eyes how his low voice and gentle touch reached her, and she wasn't a fool. Whatever was going on between them was mutual. Did she have a right to object to that? To warn them about something that might just be the best thing that had ever happened to either of them?

She knocked lightly on the office door as a warning before opening it. Peering around the door, she caught sight of Carlisle at his desk. Poor man; he looked tired. Her heart went out to him, and she crossed the room on silent feet, her sure hands reaching for the exact muscles in his neck and shoulders that she knew ached.

"Is it that bad?" she asked, kneading with her strong fingers.

Carlisle let out a breath, dropping his head forward toward the desk and letting her work her magic. "I don't know yet," he said.

Esme dug her thumb into a tense knot at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, earning a groan of gratitude as the muscles quivered and began to relax. "Did you get hold of anybody at CPS?"

"No," he said, sounding disgusted. "Just the automated line. I left a detailed message." He reached up with one of his hands, tapping a spot on his shoulder. "Here," he pleaded. Esme moved her hand obligingly, rocking the heel against the sore spot and hearing his thankful sigh. "That's one of the problems living in the middle of nowhere like this. If we were in Seattle, someone would have come to see Bella tonight."

"But I thought it was a statewide agency?"  
"It is," Carlisle said. "But that doesn't mean they have case managers and social workers spread evenly throughout the state. Someone will have to come here from the city, and that takes time. And every minute we wait, that poor girl is in constant fear that her father will manage to get to her. It's not fair."

"No, it isn't," Esme said, stroking firm fingers down his neck. She wanted to be frustrated, too, but it would do no good for both of them to sit here feeling angry. That was at least part of what a partnership was about - taking turns supporting each other. She'd needed comforting plenty of times. Right now Carlisle did. "Is there anything we can do in the meantime?"

He made a pleased noise as she hit another knot. "I don't know yet," he said honestly. "After I dead-ended with the state, I put in a call to an old colleague. You might remember her - Marietta McCauley."

"Vaguely."

"She's head of the forensics lab at the University of Washington now, and works with both state and local police when a body needs identifying." Carlisle straightened, stretching slowly, as Esme's hands finished their work and dropped away from his skin. He smiled and turned his chair toward Esme, slipping his arms around her waist and bringing her close. She wove her hands into his pale hair as he held her. "I couldn't give her details, not without breaking confidentiality. But we spoke at length about her contacts with law enforcement."

"And?" Esme prompted, when Carlisle stopped speaking.

He sighed again. "Honey, it looks like we're in for a long, difficult fight here. Bella's age is working against us; CPS always works faster with younger children. Bella is seventeen. That puts her at the end of the line, as far as they're concerned."

"Does the fact that we'd be happy to take her in as a foster child mean anything?"

"Not as far as that goes," Carlisle said ruefully. "I asked Marietta, and she said no. The fact is that younger children simply are a bigger priority. She also confirmed that Charlie's job is also going to be a problem. Police close ranks. They protect their own, even if they don't agree with what's going on."

"Then what can we do?" Esme asked. "Do we leave Forks? Take Bella with us?" The idea was not unappealing; though she liked this house and did not particularly want to leave Forks yet - it was not time, in their cycle - she did like the thought of whisking Bella away from here, away from everything that had hurt her, and letting her start over in a new town.

"Let's see how this plays out before we start considering anything that drastic," Carlisle said, squeezing her gently. "Marietta gave me some ideas. We can try filing a civil suit against Charlie. It will be an uphill battle and the onus will be on us to prove that he was in the wrong. But a civil suit will force the state to act."

"If we won."

"Yes." Carlisle looked up at her fondly. "If we won. We can also help Bella try to get emancipated minor status, though that's also a difficult battle."

"It sounds like we have a lot to talk about with her," Esme said. She sighed inwardly. She didn't want to have to keep piling more worries on Bella; she had enough already.

"Let's wait the weekend out," Carlisle suggested. "See if CPS calls. If we don't hear anything by Monday night, then we can discuss the other options with her."

"Good idea," Esme said, stroking her fingers through Carlisle's hair. She smiled at his elegant facial features, the sharp, angular beauty of him. "Give her a few days to relax. She needs it."

"And tomorrow is her birthday party," Carlisle reminded her. "Do you think Edward and Rosalie are right? That she shouldn't have any gifts?"

Esme smiled. "I know what you're thinking," she said, "and yes, I think they're right. It's too soon to give her the family crest."

"You didn't hear what I heard coming from Edward's room," Carlisle protested.

Esme laughed. "Oh, I did, believe me," she said. "Let's give them a chance to work this out together, just the two of them. We can be the meddling family later. For now, let's just give them some time."

* * *

Bella woke to warmth. She blinked slowly as her brain regained consciousness, unsure about the signals it was receiving from her body. Heat, yes - delicious heat. And movement...but she wasn't the one moving. Something was moving  _around_  her. What was it? She put out a hand, and a strange sort of resistance met her fingertips. It wasn't just air; it was...it was...water?

She forced her tired eyes wide open, only to find herself naked and wet, immersed to her shoulders in a big jetted bathtub, the water swirling and bubbling slowly around her.

"Hey."

Bella squeaked, jerking away from the male voice that sounded behind her. She whirled, trying to cover herself with her arms, water sloshing out of the tub with the force of her movements.

"Easy!" Edward said, holding his hands out toward her, empty, in a calming motion. "Easy, sweetheart, it's okay. You're okay. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you."

But it was too late. Panic welled inside Bella, squeezing her veins, ricocheting around inside her ribs with painful bursts. She propelled herself out of the tub, sloshing more water into the foggy bathroom and slipping on the tile floor, falling to her knees. She cried out as her leg twisted and her kneecap hit the hard tile at an awkward angle, sending shooting ribbons of pain up her thigh. Scrambling, using her hands as much as her feet, she wrenched the bathroom door open and made it back to her room in record time. Whimpering, her mind whirling, unable to wrap itself around what had just happened, she crawled across the floor and wriggled under the tall bed. The long drape of the gold comforter obscured her from view, and she huddled against the scratchy carpet, panting a little and shivering now that her wet body was out of the hot water.

What had happened? Bella curled into a ball, lying on her side under the bed. She took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the tightness in her throat that wanted her to cry. She didn't want to cry. Crying wouldn't help her understand any better. She swallowed again, her throat aching with unshed tears. She'd woken up...woken up...warm. Naked. In a jetted bathtub. With Edward Cullen. And that was not okay.

Bella squeezed her eyes shut, starting to shiver in earnest now, her body shaking as it tried to process the panic and also the cold. She couldn't move; she knew the bed would be warm if she was able to crawl out from under it, but she just couldn't. She wanted to, but her body would not do it. She tried telling herself that it was okay, that she had nothing to be afraid of in this place, but it didn't work. Not this time.

She'd fallen asleep in Edward's arms sometime during the night. Bella remembered that. It had felt wonderful to be held like that, wrapped in warmth, the sleek firmness of his body cupped around hers. But he'd moved her while she slept, moved her into a bathtub, and somehow that just wasn't all right. She shook, her end-wet hair trickling cold water down her back. She wanted it to be okay. What girl wouldn't love to wake up in a bathtub with the mysterious bronze-haired Cullen? Bella shook her head a little, burying her face in the scratchy carpet. It was just another thing that proved she was not normal.

A pair of bare feet came into view, and Bella flinched back into the darkness under the bed. She wished she'd remembered to close the door, but in her panic that just wasn't a reasonable thing to expect.

"Babe?"

The voice was Rosalie's. Bella studied the feet again for a moment. The toenails were purple. It wasn't Edward, then.

"Babe, I know you're down there." Rose's voice was gentle - gentler than Bella could ever remember hearing it. "I've got a towel here for you." The hem of a beige towel appeared, hovering just above the carpet. "Come out?"

Bella shook her head. "No," she croaked. Even for Rosalie, she didn't want to come out. It was safe here, in the dark under the bed.

Rosalie was silent for a moment. Then Bella heard her move. She saw knees on the carpet, and then Rose's pale, gorgeous face appeared. She slid under the bed beside Bella as if it was the most normal thing in the world, moving slowly and carefully. She brought an armload of towels with her, and wrapped Bella carefully before spooning her cold, granite-hard self around the human girl, who was huddled so small under the bed.

"So..." Rose said, tucking an arm around Bella's waist, idly stroking the knee Bella had pulled close to her chest, "before I murder my brother, you mind telling me exactly what he did?"

Bella felt her face flame. She rubbed her nose against a hem of towel and sniffed. "It's stupid," she mumbled.

"Listen to me, babe," Rose said, and her voice was firm, brooking no nonsense. "Anything that made you act like this is not stupid. Whatever he did - no matter how silly it may seem now - was not okay. Got it?"

Bella swallowed. "But he didn't know."

"Doesn't matter," Rose said, adamant and unyielding. She rubbed Bella's knee again with her fingertips. "You've got a new bruise forming."

"How do you know?" Bella asked wonderingly before she could think. She wasn't supposed to ask about things like that, but in her fear she'd forgotten.

"I can feel it," Rose said, offhand. "Will you tell me, babe? What did Edward do?"

Bella sighed. She knew it sounded lame, but she didn't have any better answer. "He didn't ask," she said, her voice small.

Rose was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed. "Oh, babe." She squeezed Bella gently, and Bella felt herself begin to relax. While she didn't know why Edward had felt safe to her - before this morning - she did know why Rose felt safe now. Rosalie was strong and unyielding. She was not unfathomable like Edward. She said what she meant, and she was very clear about it. "He should have known. That's not silly or stupid at all. You're right. No matter what it was he did, he should have asked."

Bella opened her mouth to argue, but she was cut short by Rosalie's voice.

"And don't go arguing with me about this, babe. He  _should_  have known never to do anything without asking first. He knows you don't like surprises, and he knows you're not comfortable with intimacy." She squeezed Bella gently again. "I don't want to know exactly what he did, unless you feel like telling me will help you feel better. I don't need to know. I just need you to know that, whatever it was, it wasn't okay. Not without asking."

"She's telling the truth, sweetest," Esme said gently. Bella tensed; she hadn't even heard the older woman come in the room. She raised her head a little, and felt the pressure of a gentle hand on her towel-swathed hair. Esme's pale face was soft with concern, and she stroked Bella's cheek with a cool hand. "Please. I know it's hard, but try to believe us."

"Esme," Bella whispered. She felt it welling up inside her again - the aching wish for a mother, one who could give comfort that Renee was incapable of sharing. Bella's throat tightened with tears again, and she reached out.

"Oh, baby girl," Esme murmured, and caught Bella's hands, drawing her out from under the bed. Rosalie helped, pushing gently, and Bella found herself tucked firmly into Esme's arms. She buried her head in the slim, feminine shoulder, feeling the tears finally spilling over.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella didn't know how long she cried, only that it seemed the tears just wouldn't stop. She cried through the panic she hated herself for feeling, cried for the times she'd swallowed down tears, knowing they would not fix her situation. She cried for the pain her father inflicted, and for the strong, mothering arms that held her now - arms she'd wished for many times in the past. She clutched Esme tightly, fairly sure that the unnatural strength of the Cullens meant her own puny grip could not hurt the older woman.

"Let it out, sweetheart," Esme crooned, one hand on Bella's back and the other cupping the back of her head, holding her against her shoulder. "Let it all out. You'll feel better - I promise."

Bella felt a little soothed by the gentle words, but she couldn't have stopped if she wanted to. The sobs kept catching in her throat, and when she tried to swallow them down they forced their way out even louder. She panted a little, breathless with the force of her pain. "He'll kill me," she cried, the words round and garbled. "Charlie will kill me for running away."

"Not if you don't go back," Rosalie said from behind her, her voice low and uncompromising.

"H-have to," Bella argued, even as she tightened her grip on Esme as if fighting against a physical force trying to tear her away.

"No, baby," Esme said, pressing her lips against the sleek fall of Bella's dark hair. "I promise. Bella. Bella, sweetheart, look at me."

There was a firmness to the request that Bella could not refuse, and she slowly pulled away from Esme's shoulder, her wet eyes hesitantly blinking upward.

"Listen to me, Bella." Esme's voice was more serious than Bella had ever heard it before. "I am promising you right now that you don't have to go back to Charlie.  _Never_. We'll figure something out. Please believe me, baby. I know you're scared, and it's okay to be afraid. But you don't have to be afraid - of him at least - anymore."

Bella stared into Esme's sharp golden eyes, tears still trickling down her cheeks. She wanted so much to believe those words, but she literally could not wrap her mind around them. The idea of not fearing Charlie anymore...she couldn't do it. She wanted to - oh, god, she wanted to. But she couldn't. It just wasn't something she was capable of. It wasn't that she doubted Esme's sincerity, but sincerity only went so far. It didn't cancel out the cold reality of Charlie's fists, in Bella's mind. She whimpered a little, swallowing back a hiccup, and replaced her head on Esme's shoulder.

Esme sighed. Bella couldn't interpret the meaning behind the sound. She rubbed her hot cheek against Esme's cold neck, and Esme chuckled gently. "It's okay," she said. "I know trust takes time. I know belief is hard."

Bella sniffled. "I'm sorry," she managed to croak through her throat, swollen and sore from so many tears.

Rose was out the door and back again in an instant, holding a glass of water. Bella eyed it as she held it out to her - the water might feel good on her throat, she thought, but she didn't want to let go of Esme, and she didn't know whether her shaking limbs could hold the glass steady at the moment. But Rosalie seemed to understand, and she held the glass to Bella's lips. Bella opened her mouth gratefully, swallowing a little water at a time. It felt good, but not as good as Esme's arms holding her close.

"Feel better now?" Rose asked, setting the glass aside.

Bella shrugged, turning her head to wipe her eyes against her towel. She was feeling tired more than anything, but she thought maybe she did feel a little better. She nestled against Esme, gently now, and felt an answering relaxing of Esme's grip.

"Feel like coming downstairs for a while?" Rose pressed.

Bella's eyes widened, and she shook her head vehemently. How could they ask her that? Edward was probably down there, and she wasn't ready to face him yet. Not after running from him as she'd done.

"Shh, it's okay," Esme said, stroking her hair soothingly. "Edward isn't here, if that's what you're afraid of." She kissed the top of Bella's head again. "I sent him to the grocery store. He won't be back for a while."

"Come downstairs," Rosalie urged. "We'll get you set up on the couch, with Alice if you like, and you can watch a movie or something. How does that sound?"

Bella nodded unenthusiastically. She didn't really want to go downstairs, but she didn't want to argue with her hosts, either.

"Good," Esme said encouragingly. "I've got some things to do, so - "

"Oh," Bella said, her sore body instantly in motion, "oh, I'm sorry, I - "

"Shh, baby," Esme said, drawing her down again. "Honey, look at me."

Bella did.

"Sweetest, I have all the time in the world for you. Never doubt that. Any time you need anything - even if it's just to be held - I'm here. If you don't want to go downstairs right now, you don't have to. We can stay right here; it's not a problem." She touched Bella's cheek, rubbing the tearstained skin with two fingers. "What do you need, Bella?"

Bella opened her mouth. "I - " Nothing more came out. She tried, but couldn't find the words. What she was feeling was inexpressible. She sighed in frustration and dropped her head, letting her hair hide her face.

"Come on, babe."

Bella felt the deft touch of Rosalie's hands, and she moved mechanically, letting her help her out of the damp towels and into a clean set of pajamas. A few errant tears dropped as she moved, but she didn't really consider that crying. She swiped at her eyes again with her soft flannel sleeve, laughing a little shakily as Rosalie pitched the wet towels into a corner.

"All right," Esme said kindly, when Bella was dressed in pajamas once again. "All right now." She guided the human girl down onto the bed she had not slept in the night before, tucking sheets and blankets securely around her. Rose helped, her movements sure and efficient. As soon as Bella was swathed in a warm, heavy pile of covers, Esme lay down on top of the blankets, propping herself up on an elbow and rubbing Bella's shoulder gently with her free hand. Bella turned and nestled into Esme again, and Rosalie took up her place at Bella's back, one arm slung almost lazily over her waist.

Bella sighed a little, feeling some of the tension leave her body as she lay propped between the two older women. She felt...safe. Safe in a way she'd never felt before. It was different with Edward - Edward, who had fought for her. Edward, who had a temper. Edward, who made her feel things she didn't know if she was ready to feel. Esme and Rosalie did nothing like that to her. They held her when she cried, tended to her physical needs - food, clothing - and acted as if this wasn't out of the ordinary at all. As if it was utterly natural to play the role of mother and big sister to a lost waif. She took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes, breathing in the sweet, feminine scent that enveloped mother and daughter. It was calming, and Bella rubbed a final few stray tears away.

"Why don't you try to rest?" Esme asked, her voice kind. "It's still early in the morning, baby."

Bella nodded. She'd slept well, nestled in the cool clasp of Edward's arms, but she was still tired. "I'll try," she said. "Will you - could you - " Her voice trailed off and her face flushed red. She still didn't like asking for things.

"Anything, Bella. Just name it," Esme encouraged.

Bella tried again. "Would you tell me a story, maybe? To keep my mind off things?" She sniffed, her nose still a little stuffed from crying so much. "How about the first time you met Carlisle? Could you tell me about that?"

Esme's low, amused chuckle vibrated against Bella's cheek. "Of course, honey." She paused, gathering her thoughts. Bella had asked not to be told the whole truth about the family, and she intended to comply with the girl's wishes. It was probably for the best - for now, anyway. Telling their secret  _was_ against the rules, after all, and if the Volturi heard of it, it was Bella who would ultimately pay the price. "My family was very...correct," she said, choosing her words carefully, trying to mask the true number of decades that separated her from these memories. "They wanted everything to be just so - very concerned with appearances."

"Were you born in the South?"

"No," Esme said with a smile. "Ohio. Though sometimes, looking back, it feels like it might as well have been Mississippi."

"Oh."

"I loved my parents, Bella, though I have enough distance now to understand that what they wanted was not in my best interests." Esme stroked Bella's hair with a gentle hand. This wasn't quite what the girl had asked to hear, but she hoped it would help Bella gain some insight into her own situation. "I tried to be the young woman they wanted me to be, but it was hard to go against my nature."

"What was your nature?" Bella opened her sweet brown eyes, questions lurking in their murky depths. "You seem pretty...I don't know...docile? To me, anyway."

Esme laughed. Bella blushed and looked away. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Baby, don't worry about it." Esme squeezed her for a moment. "What you see is maturity, baby. At sixteen, I was as lively as any other girl my age. I had an older brother I idolized." She paused. "You know, Emmett reminds me a little of my brother Angus. I never thought of that before."

Rose chuckled behind Bella. "Yeah? How so?"

"Angus was so full of life, and such a sweet man. He was ten years older than me, and married with a baby on the way when I met Carlisle. I tried to behave, to be the proper daughter my parents wanted me to be. When I needed an outlet, I went to Angus." She smiled, remembering the sound of her older brother's rumbling laughter and the way he caught her by the waist when she was young, swinging her up into the air so that her skirts swirled like butterfly wings. He had been a hero to her. "He took my girlfriends and I on picnics, and walks in the woods when the weather was nice. All of my friends were in love with him."

"Must have been nice," Bella said, her voice dreamy. Esme glanced down, and was glad to see the touch of a smile on her face. Her eyelids blinked slowly, as if they felt heavy. She was heading toward sleep.

"His wife didn't approve of the activities he let us indulge in," Esme said. "It was all harmless fun - playing rowdy running games in the woods and whatnot. She wouldn't tell on him, as much as she disapproved, though. She thought the sun rose in his eyes."

Rose glanced at Bella, too, before smiling at her mother figure. "I could see Emmett acting like that with a little sister," she said quietly.

"Not that he'd have to." Esme smiled, stroking Bella's cheek. The sleepy little human nuzzled into the cool touch. "Carlisle and I would never treat our children the way my parents treated me."

"Were they mean, Esme?" Bella asked in a small voice.

"Not on purpose. By today's standards you could probably call it emotional abuse, but back then, when I was a child, it was just the way things worked in some families. They didn't mean to be cruel. They were just more concerned with appearances than with real happiness."

"That's sad," Bella said quietly.

Esme kissed her hair. "I was in the woods with Angus and a couple of friends one day, when I was sixteen. He had met us when school let out, and we were supposedly walking home but had gone the long way through a patch of woodland. It was spring, and school was almost out." She smiled. "I can still remember that special green light as the bright spring sun shone through the new maple leaves, turning everything such a brilliant, bright green. It was like a fairy world under that emerald canopy."

"Yes," Bella breathed, her eyes closed. "I know that kind of light."

"It was electric, the light and the springtime that day. I don't know what got into me, other than that. Maybe I didn't need a reason other than youth and springtime, but I did something I hadn't done since I was eight or nine years old."

"What did you do?"

Esme laughed. "I climbed a tree."

"Really?"

"Really." Esme stroked Bella's dark hair. "I took off my shoes and stockings, hiked up my dress, and hauled myself up into the branches. It was beautiful up there, and I didn't want to leave. But my parents were waiting." She continued to pet the sweet hair nestled against her shoulder. Bella's warm presence was surprisingly comforting as she spoke about things that she'd just as soon forget, most of the time. "I was going through a growth spurt, and I just wasn't in complete control of my own body - coltish, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Bella said, with the kind of self-deprecating laughter that made Esme very sure she did.

"I fell."

"Oh, Esme!" Bella's eyes opened wide and she sat up a little, the blankets falling from her shoulders. "Were you all right?"

"Hush, baby, relax," Esme said, pressing her back down. "This story is supposed to help you sleep."

"But - "

Esme cupped Bella's face in her hands, laughing a little. "It's okay, baby girl, it's okay. It's all in the past."

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?" Rose asked, mock-threateningly.

"Yes, please," Bella said, settling back to the bed. She lay on her back, one hand near her ear, a curl of hair wrapped around her finger.

"Story?" a high-pitched voice queried from the other side of the door. It was promptly pushed open, and Alice slid into the room. "Did I hear something about a story?"

"It's one you've heard plenty of times, Tinkerbell," Rose said, rolling her eyes.

Alice made a face and plopped herself down on the end of the bed, making room for herself by pushing her family members' legs out of the way, draping her body over Bella's covered feet.. "I like them anyway," she said. "Tell me."

Esme glanced at Bella, wanting to make sure that Alice's abrupt appearance had not troubled her. Bella didn't seem upset; she smiled at the smallest Cullen before returning her eyes to Esme. "Angus tried to catch me," Esme continued, since Bella seemed to have recovered, "but he just wasn't fast enough."

"Were you hurt?" Bella asked again, though this time she did not attempt to rise.

"It knocked the breath out of me. I couldn't remember ever doing that before, and it's a scary feeling when you don't know what's going on. It felt like my lungs had collapsed and they wouldn't take in air."

Bella shuddered, and Esme felt a surge of pity for the girl, and understanding of Edward's plight. That awful feeling of not getting air was one of the worst parts of the change from human to vampire, and Esme remembered it very clearly. It was almost like having the breath torn out of you - gasping like a fish on land, swallowing air, trying to breathe and being unable. Being fully conscious and dying. It was a terrible feeling, and Esme knew that there was a good chance that it lay in Bella's not too distant future. She could understand why Edward would not want to put the girl through that - she certainly didn't want to, either. But there was no other way, if he wanted to keep her. If she wanted to keep him, still, after this morning's incident.

"It was only after I had managed to get a few breaths that I realized my leg was broken." Esme paused, not wanting to go into too much detail about that. It happened so long ago that it no longer bothered her, but she didn't want to say anything that might upset Bella. "It didn't hurt right away - not until Angus tried to pick me up."

Bella ducked her head against Rose's arm, which automatically slid out and encircled her. Rosalie sat up, pulling Bella partially into her lap. Bella buried her head against Rose's flat, firm stomach, and it was only then that Esme realized Bella was trembling slightly.

"You cold, babe?" Rose asked gently. Before Bella could give an answer, Alice gave a huge tug at the blankets, piling them on top of Bella's curled form. From under the soft mound they heard a shaky laugh.

"I'm okay." Bella's voice was muffled by blankets, but Esme heard clearly that it was also thick with emotion. "I just know what that feels like, is all." She hiccuped, choking on the next word, and had to cough several times to clear her throat. "To be moved with a broken leg." She sniffled. "It hurts."

Esme glanced at Rose, who was scowling darkly. She was willing to bet that Rose also understood what Bella was not telling them - the person who had moved her with a broken leg was likely neither a well-meaning big brother nor medical personnel.

"When Angus decided it was best not to move me," Esme said, slowly continuing her story, watching Bella and Rose closely for any sign that she should stop, "he went instead to fetch the new doctor in town. My friends stayed with me, but we didn't wait long. I remember scrunching my eyes closed against the pain, and then a cool, gentle hand on my face."

Bella's big eyes slowly appeared as she peeped out of the nest of blankets. Rose's hand was stroking her hair again, and Alice lay on her feet in a way that was probably uncomfortable, but she wasn't complaining. "Carlisle," Bella murmured.

"Yes." Esme couldn't help but smile. "Carlisle. I opened my eyes to that gorgeous green spring light, and the most beautiful man I'd ever seen was kneeling next to me, his hand cupping my cheek." She laughed a little, and in that giggle there was the shadow of the young girl she had been, those many years ago. "I'm sure my leg still hurt, in that moment, but I don't remember it."

"It's the most romantic story," Alice sighed happily.

Bella pillowed her head in Rose's lap, settling down again into a more comfortable position. Whatever danger there might have been about a possible panic attack was now past, and though she did not return to her previous spot on the bed, she did not seem frightened anymore.

"I fell in love in that moment," Esme said, smiling at the rapt look on Bella's face. "It was infatuation, too, I'm sure. I was just a young girl, and he was older than me."

Rose snorted under her breath, too low for Bella to hear. Esme acknowledged the jab with a little quirk of her mouth; Bella had no idea just how true that statement was.

"He gave me a dose of medicine that knocked me out pretty quickly. I don't really remember much else from that day, or the next few, for that matter. It's probably better that way. I slept through the first, worst days of pain, and dreamed of that touch, and his calm, comforting smile."

Bella's brow creased. " But - " She started to say, but then cut herself off.

"What did you want to ask, baby?" Esme encouraged. "You can always ask us anything. You know that."

Bella nodded a little.

"What's got you curious, then?"

"I just..." Bella's frown didn't smooth out. "I guess I just wondered why...why you married someone else. If you already knew you were in love with Carlisle, I mean."

It was the obvious question, of course; Esme knew that. She smiled at Bella, but the gesture was tainted with old sadness. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," Bella said quickly. "I shouldn't have - "

"It's fine, honey." Esme touched the back of her hand, rubbing her knuckles. "It's a very good question, and like all good questions, there isn't an easy answer." Esme sighed. These were not easy memories to relive. They belonged to a time in her life that she would rather just forget. "Carlisle has told me since that he felt a pull toward me when we first met, but I was young and he was friends with Angus. It would have been inappropriate to start a courtship under those circumstances, he felt, and he was probably right."

There it was again, Bella noticed, the strange old-fashioned word Edward had used the night before.  _Court._  No one  _courted_  anymore.

"I went away to college - Mount Holyoke - and when I returned, it was understood that I would marry Charles Evenson, an upstanding businessman from Columbus. My parents approved of the family. It was a step up in their eyes, you see, and that was what they wanted for me."

Rose caught Esme's eye. Esme didn't need Edward's mind-reading ability to understand that Rose's next question was entirely for Bella's benefit. "What did you want for yourself, Esme?" she asked, and while Rosalie already knew the answer, Esme had to admit that her acting skills were quite good. It sounded like a normal question, as if Rose really did want to know.

"I wanted to move West," Esme said, feeling Bella's curious eyes on her. "I felt the call of the Pacific - a mistimed pioneer spirit, if you will." She smiled. "I wanted to go to Colorado or California - somewhere with craggy, snow-clad mountains - and teach school. I also never forgot Carlisle, who had moved away while I was at school. I never had the nerve to ask Angus where he went, but I always wondered."

"Did you want to find him?" Bella asked hesitantly, her small voice so unsure, as if she were afraid that her question would cause anger.

"That's a good question. I don't think anyone's ever put it quite like that." Esme thought, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. "I wanted to see him again, certainly. When I daydreamed, it was always about him. But...I don't think I had enough self-actualization to feel like I could really go looking. Does that make sense? I thought he was out of my life forever - this beautiful man who had helped me, and been my brother's friend." She looked at the rings on her fingers - all tokens of Carlisle's devotion. A tender smile touched the corners of her mouth, and it did not go unnoticed by Bella, who felt an answering pang of loneliness - a wish for her own beautiful Cullen, who had frightened her earlier this morning but who had also saved her twice now.

"I didn't know how to be anything but my parents' dutiful daughter," Esme said quietly, watching the thoughts flit across the surface of Bella's sweet brown eyes. This story was making her think, which was the next best thing if she refused to sleep. "So I married Charles Evenson soon after I returned from college."

Bella looked up again. "Your demon is a Charlie, too," she said faintly.

"Yes," Esme agreed. "We have that in common. Though no one dared call him Charlie. He was always Charles, even to his family."

"And friends?"

"He didn't really have friends." Esme chose her words carefully. They were in dangerous territory now, talking about her ex-husband, and she didn't want to trigger Bella into another panic attack. They'd thwarted what might have become one already, and Bella didn't need any more close calls like that. "Outwardly, he was charming. Smooth. A snake-oil salesman, is what we used to call it."

"I know the term." Bella rested her head in Rosalie's lap again, and her eyes were murky and veiled.

"I meant my wedding vows, when I spoke them. I barely knew the man, but it was what my parents wanted, and I was willing to try. It was only after we were settled in Columbus that I found out what he was really like, under the shiny exterior."

Bella shuddered, but remained quiet.

"Like I said before, I stayed longer than I should have. I was young, and I didn't know any better. I thought that if I loved him enough, if I took the pain well enough, that I could change him. That we could make something work." She sighed a little. "Then,  _everything_ changed. I found out I was pregnant."

Bella froze, turning stiff in Rosalie's grasp. Rose flicked warning eyes to Esme, and then all three Cullen women stared at the human girl they were curled around. They couldn't see her face, the way she lay in Rose's lap. Esme gave a fleeting wish for Edward before remembering that he couldn't hear Bella's thoughts anyway, so his presence would do no good.

"Bella?" Rose said carefully, stroking a hand through the dark hair, then down Bella's arm. "You okay?"

Bella managed a nod, though her body did not relax.

"You sure?"

She nodded again, but it was the only movement she made. She lay stiller than Esme thought a human could, her body systems on high alert, like a prey animal that sensed the presence of a predator. Esme could smell the bitter taint of fear in her breath, and she didn't know what to do. They were already holding her, and as things stood, she couldn't call Edward in to help soothe her. Not knowing what else to do, she decided to continue the story. It had a happy ending, and hopefully that would help bring Bella around.

"It was for my son that I finally left," she said, trying to rush through the painful parts of the story and focus instead on the empowering message. "I couldn't do it for myself, but I could for him. He didn't deserve to grow up with a father like that. I ran - went out West to northern California. I settled near San Francisco. I liked the fog. But Charles wasn't willing to give up without a fight. He didn't love me - people who are abusive aren't capable of love - but my absence was hard on his image. He knew about the baby, too, which made him possessive. He wanted that boy."

Bella was shaking again, but Rose made a motion for Esme to continue talking as she rubbed Bella's arms and back comfortingly.

"He kept calling me on the telephone, and I - like a fool - kept answering. He'd yell, and threaten, and try to coerce me into coming back. I was under so much stress from him, and I was a single woman, alone - I was afraid to go to the doctor. Afraid of what people might say, afraid that someone might send me back to Charles - or worse, take the baby away, after he was born. I know now that my worries were all in my head, but back then they were very real to me. I was terrified. I lived every day in fear, for myself and my unborn son."

Bella was not crying - not with tears, anyway - but she shook as if she were fighting a terrible chill, and she would not remove her face from Rose's stomach. She'd turned, wrapping herself around the elegant blonde, and would not let go. Alice was sitting very still on the end of the bed, and it looked like she was searching the future - for what? An answer? What they needed to find that, Esme thought, was someone who could read the past, not the future. They needed to know what had already happened to the poor girl, not what was yet to come.

"I'm sorry, honey," Esme said, her voice laden with sorrow as she touched Bella's tight shoulder gently. "This is the worst of it. It gets better from here, I promise." She sighed and continued, just hoping that the happy ending would snap Bella out of whatever fear currently had hold of her. "I went into labor early - very early. All the stress had just been too much for the baby." She tightened her jaw and swallowed. She couldn't cry, but this was still painful to relive. "He was born, and lived a few days. The doctors knew he was too small to make it, and they let me stay in a room in the hospital, with him, until he died. I named him after Angus." She swallowed again, watching Bella through stinging tears that would never fall. "Don't cry, Bella. I had him for a small time. I got to hold him, and I am so very grateful for that. And listen, baby - that tragedy is what brought Carlisle back to me."

Slowly - achingly slowly - Bella unbent a little, raising her head from Rose's lap. "He was at the hospital?" she asked, her voice tiny and faint. "In San Francisco?"

"Yes," Esme said, shooting warning glances at both Alice and Rosalie to keep their mouths shut. In actuality, she had willingly jumped off a cliff after her son's death, and only after being brought to the morgue, barely alive, had Carlisle found her. But Bella didn't need to know that. Suicide was a tricky subject, and one Esme didn't want to bring up. Plus, the true details of her reunion with Carlisle tread terribly close to the line she didn't want to cross - the line where Bella would have to know everything. Her adopted daughters knew the truth, of course, and Bella one day would, too, most likely, but right now it was best to leave the story here.

"He helped you heal," Bella murmured, her body slowly beginning to relax again.

"He was very gentle - treated me like glass for the longest time, like I was apt to break if handled too roughly. It was such a change from Charles, and at first I didn't know what to do with it." Esme smiled as Bella settled on the mattress again, her eyelids fluttering. "I loved him almost from the start, but I had to learn how to trust again. Believe me, Bella, it takes time. I know better than anyone. But it  _is_  possible."

"You married him," Bella whispered, her voice dreamy as sleep neared.

"Yes," Esme said, smiling and leaning down to press a motherly kiss against Bella's forehead. "My parents weren't there, but I was so happy. I was starting a new life, with the man I loved. He insisted I wear white, even though I had been married before. I lost everything, and then gained back so much more." She stroked Bella's hair once. "He had Edward already, and so I lost one son and gained a new one. You can never replace a lost child, but Edward was so sweet and accepting, even though I took up a lot of Carlisle's time. It was easy to love him, too."

"Edward..." Bella breathed, his name almost reverential on her lips. And then she was asleep.

Esme sighed and glanced at her daughters. "Whew."

"That was intense," Rosalie agreed. She looked at the little human girl tucked in the big bed that easily held all four women. "Sounds like we don't have too much to worry about, though. With Edward, I mean. Did you hear that last sigh?"

"She loves him," Alice said confidently. "She just doesn't know it yet. What happened this morning?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Our dunce of a brother put her in a bath while she was sleeping. He told me afterward that she was shivering as she slept. The idiot let her fall asleep naked and sweaty, cuddled up against him. Of-fucking-course she'd start to shiver!" Rosalie shook her head, glancing down at the human sleeping peacefully in the bed. Her mouth was slightly open, her chest rising gently with each breath she took. She was young anyway, but she looked even younger when she slept, her pain-filled eyes lidded, the firm, careful line of her full mouth eased. "He was only trying to help, but she woke up naked in a bathtub with him, and she freaked out. Naturally. He should have just brought her to bed and turned on the electric blanket - laid on top of the covers if he had to stay with her. But no. He had to do it his way, and now there's going to be awkwardness until they sort it out."

"Poor Edward!" Alice said. "How is he doing?"

"Tortured, as always." Rose wrinkled her nose, looking disgusted. "He blames himself, which he should, but he's taking it way overboard, of course. Little drama king, that one. He ran out of the house and wouldn't come back, so Esme sent him to get groceries for Bella's party."

"I don't know if we should still have the party today," Esme put in, unsure. "What with everything that happened this morning. Do you think we should wait until things settle down?"

"No." Rosalie sounded confident. "Let's go ahead as planned. They'll work things out on their own time. Look at her - she's going to forgive him, you know she is. Let's just let it happen when it happens."

"So...party's on?" Alice asked happily.

"Yes," Esme said, giving Bella's hand a final pat before sliding off the bed. "And if Edward is back with the groceries, I have some baking to start."

"I want to help with party stuff!" Alice announced, but Rose caught her as she attempted to bounce off the bed.

"You," Rosalie said, "are staying here with Bella while she sleeps, making sure she doesn't have nightmares, and that she's not alone when she wakes up. Let her sleep as much as she wants."

"But - "

"I am going to enlist the help of the boys, and we're going to get the rest of the party things ready while Esme cooks. No one trusts you not to go overboard, so you're staying here."

Alice pouted, but Rose was implacable, and eventually the pixie agreed to stay with Bella. Esme left the room a little unwillingly. She'd be glad to sit with the little human, but she didn't trust anyone else in the kitchen - not with Bella's birthday cake and dinner. And hopefully Bella would sleep well and long. She deserved it, after everything.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella tossed in the big bed, pitching herself down. She jarred her painful shoulder and swore under her breath irritably, wishing it would just heal already. She hated feeling like an invalid. Briefly she wondered if that was why she was finding it so difficult to go back to sleep - she was healing, but not fast enough for her liking, and it seemed wrong, somehow, to be in bed during the day, no matter how tired she still was. But, no. She sat up, pushing her hair away from her face, and sighed a little as she leaned back against the multitude of pillows protecting her from the hard headboard. It seemed overkill, but Bella remembered the absolute  _riot_  of colored throw pillows and shams on Alice's bed. This pile was nothing compared to hers.

No, that wasn't it. Bella idly touched the swollen bruise on her thigh. Putting pressure on it was uncomfortable, but it was a kind of pain she was used to and anything familiar was welcome in this place full of new people, new feelings, and new experiences. Bella ran her fingertips across her slightly swollen lips, feeling the buzz of Edward's electric kisses still vibrating within her body. His affection, both physical and emotional, was perhaps the newest and most unknown experience of the past few days. He was a strange creature - passionate and reticent by turns, fierce and gentle, frightening...and also perhaps the person she trusted most in the world. So why had she reacted so violently to waking up in a bathtub, in his arms? She couldn't answer that question, and it bothered her.

She could still smell him on her skin and she inhaled, the scent of him deeply moving. He had touched her body in ways no one had ever done before - gently, with both desire and caution. It was the epitome of her entire experience over the past few days with the Cullens. She was used to harsh words and rough hands, and being ignored more than not. But here it was impossible to blend into the background, impossible to feel ignored. People spoke to her with kindness and understanding - and they did not use their hands to cause pain. Edward's hands, in fact, had caused deep pleasure of a kind she had never before experienced. At times she'd believed that the private parts of her body - or the parts that were supposed to be private, anyway - could only cause her pain. But Edward had shown her a different kind of touch fueled by mutual desire; a touch she now craved. But not just sexual touch - it was his hands she wanted, his arms, the feel of him close to her. Lying alone in the quiet room that did not really feel like hers, she realized what it was that denied her sleep. She missed him. She wasn't stupid, and was fully aware that, while every Cullen kept separate rooms, they "slept" in pairs, and you hardly saw one half of a couple without the other, particularly at night. A child of divorce, she'd never been privy to that sort of deep, abiding relationship. But she wondered now what it would be like to have that with Edward - to have him with her in the evenings, to fall asleep curled in his arms, his gentle breath tickling her hair.

Sighing at her own wish, which she tried to push aside, Bella slid out of bed and padded over to the small desk where Rosalie had deposited her schoolbag. She dug inside, reacquainting herself with its contents. Textbooks, binder, pens, a calculator...Bella spilled it out, making a neat stack of books and piling the smaller items to one side. In the bottom of the bag she found her cell phone - Charlie had wanted to cancel it when he found out she had one, but it was part of Renee's household plan and so it had stayed. Bella turned it on, not really expecting any messages but checking anyway. Sometimes Renee called to tell her they were moving on from one location to another.

The little message tone dinged, and Bella put it to her ear, waiting for it to access her voicemail. She twirled a pencil in her fingers, somewhat eager to hear Renee's familiar voice.

"Howdy, Bells."

Her knees gave out immediately at the forced cheer in Charlie's voice. She dropped to the floor with a thud, the phone frozen in her hand.

"I know where you are, little girl. You're with the doctor's family. That wasn't smart, Bells. You know that, don't you? He can't keep you there forever, and you know you're going to be in deep, deep shit when you come home."

The door to her room flew open, and Bella felt cool arms slide around her. "Bella?" Edward's voice asked, laced with concern. "Bella, what - "

"And so are they, Bells. That's kidnapping, what they're doing. Taking a little girl away from her daddy."

Edward exhaled against her shoulder and touched her hand. "Don't listen, baby," he urged. "Give me the phone."

But Bella's hand would not release the cell phone, and she could do nothing but listen as her father's voice spoke to her in this place, this room, she had begun to think of as a sanctuary.

"I'm a lonely daddy without you, Bells. Come home to me. You know it's where you belong, now and forever. You're mine. Even when you turn eighteen, or twenty-one, you'll still be  _mine_."

The vicious bite of the words in his mouth made Edward growl low in his throat. She didn't belong to that son-of-a-bitch, and if he had anything to do with it, she'd never go back there. But she was more than trembling now, her body shaking violently in his arms. He didn't want to hurt her by prying the phone out of her frozen hand, but he didn't want her listening to any more of her father's hateful words, either.

"Mommy and Daddy Cullen will go to prison for kidnapping," Charlie was saying now, a dark delight plain in his words. "And their fucked-up kids will go back to group homes or on the street, which is what they deserve. And it'll all be because of you, Bells. You'll have made it happen."

Edward swore and pushed the button to end the message. He didn't want to know what else the police chief had to say to Bella; it was all lies calculated to rip apart the fragile threads of her psyche.

And the frightening part was that it seemed to be working. Edward scowled furiously as he shifted his body, trying to peer into Bella's eyes. She stared straight ahead, unseeing, her hand still glued to the phone.

"Bella, sweetheart. Baby, listen to me.  _Isabella_."

She did not respond, but continued to shake and grasp the phone as if it were a lifeline.

"No, Bella," he said. "Not him. Listen to me, sweetheart. He's lying. He wants you to feel bad, but it's not true. None of it is true." Not knowing what else to do, Edward reverted to what had worked previously, when he'd pulled her out of her panic attack. He sat in front of her, willing her eyes to clear, and stroked gently at her hand gripping the phone. "It's okay, Bella. Sweetheart, everything's all right. You're here with me. It's Edward. I won't hurt you. You're safe. You're safe."

He continued to murmur to her, stroking her hand gently. He wished his own hands were warm; it felt like her hand was literally frozen to the phone and it seemed as if warmth would melt her grip. He didn't want to force her hand, for fear of both frightening and hurting her.

Finally, finally, he felt a tremor in her hand that was different from her fearful trembling.

"That's it," he whispered, "good girl, that's it. Let it go, Bella. Listen to me, it's Edward. You're safe. You can let go."

He could feel the eyes of his family on him, where they crowded the doorway, watching. He noted that nobody, not even Rosalie, had stepped forward to warn him away from Bella this time. Instead they waited, and Edward could feel that everyone had accepted him as Bella's primary source of comfort, regardless of what had happened this morning.

"Esme's here, too," he told her. "And Alice, and Rose, and Carlisle. We're all here for you, sweetheart. Just open your eyes and look. Look at me, Bella."

And she did. She shut her eyes tightly for a long moment, and when they opened again they focused immediately on him. Edward held as still as he could, counting her loud, quick heartbeats as she hovered there, her brain obviously whirling, trying to decipher what had just happened. After an agonizing wait, she blinked again, shifted her trembling body, and launched herself at him.

It was with the deepest relief that Edward gladly caught her, holding her as tightly as he dared. She still shook against him, but she buried her head in the crook of his neck and squeezed him, holding herself to him as if to a lifeline. Edward released a held breath, smiling into her hair. "Good girl," he whispered. "Bella. Bella. You're safe. You're okay. I'm here."

She didn't answer, but after a moment she did manage to drop the phone. It landed behind Edward, and he felt Rosalie move to sweep it up. Turning his head, he nodded his permission at her. She turned the volume down and replayed the voicemail message too quietly for Bella to hear. Edward closed his ears to it; he didn't want to hear Charlie's insidious threats again. He couldn't help but hear the low growl from Emmett, or Esme's angry gasp, but he tried to tune them out. The girl in his arms was more important, and he was worried because she wouldn't stop shaking and she wasn't crying. Wasn't crying a good thing? A sign of emotion?

"Bella, baby," he crooned, touching his lips to her ear, "sweet girl, I am so sorry." It was the first time he'd had a chance to apologize since the morning, and while he wasn't at all sure that she was actually listening to his words, he still felt the intense need to say them. Rosalie had relayed to him Bella's response, and what she'd said nearly broke his heart.  _He didn't ask._  While he'd just been trying to help her warm up - for the most part, anyway - Edward still felt intense guilt over what he'd done. He'd frightened her, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do. For a moment there, in the bathroom, she'd looked at him the way she looked at her father. The sheer amount of panic, of fear and pain in her dark eyes, nearly broke him.

Now he held her as tightly as he dared, willing her to calm down. Her arms around his shoulders were frantic, her fingers digging into the impenetrable skin of his back in a way that would have felt amazing if she'd done it out of passion. But the fear he scented from her was too much, and he would have broken down and cried himself, if it were possible. Her breaths were tense and ragged, expelled against his neck like little bursts of pain, and he wanted nothing more than to catch her up in his arms, bearing her away from everything that had ever hurt her - anything that could ever hurt her again. The fact that this was just not possible frustrated him beyond belief.

"Don't let go," she whispered, her voice harsh and raw. "Please, don't let go of me."

"I won't, sweetheart," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere. You're not alone."

"We need to get her out of here," Rose said, her voice pitched too low for human ears. "We need to get her away from him."

"That's not possible right now." Carlisle's voice was quiet, too. "These things take time."

"Fuck time, and fuck this fucking legal system! Look at her! We need to get her out of here  _now_."

"Rosalie."

The warning tone in Carlisle's voice stopped Rose's angry words, but Edward glanced up and saw the determined set of her jaw, the furious snap of her dark golden eyes. He agreed wholeheartedly with his sister in that moment - Bella didn't need to be so close to her father, so close that every waking moment was a torment. They needed to get her away.

"And you," Rose said, turning to glare daggers at Alice. "You were supposed to be watching her!"

"I..." Alice trailed off, wincing. Edward opened his mind to her, and saw that she really didn't have an excuse. Not a good one, anyway. She'd become bored watching Bella sleep, and had decided that listening to her from her room down the hall would be good enough. Unfortunately, she hadn't paid enough attention, and had not heard Bella wake, or reach for her phone.

Edward shook his head, shifting his arms around Bella and cradling her close to his body, standing and bringing her over to the bed. He shoved back his own anger at Alice's thoughtlessness; it was useless now. From the sorrow on her face, it was clear he couldn't make her feel any worse than she already did. She knew she had erred, and Bella had paid the price.

"Beautiful girl," he said instead, setting Bella on his lap and slowly pressing his lips to her hair, her forehead - anything he could reach. "Baby, it's okay. You're safe here with us."

She was slowly relaxing again, muscle by muscle, and he felt her nuzzle his throat, her nose tickling softly against his skin. Every touch she gave him filled him with the sweetest pain - it was so innocent, so trusting. Even now, after he'd tested that trust - however inadvertently - she was still willing to forgive him, it seemed.

"We'll talk later," Carlisle promised, his voice still pitched for only vampire ears. "For now, let's finish getting her birthday party ready." He touched Alice's shoulder, then Esme's. "Edward, are you staying here with her?"

"Like you even have to ask," Rose said. She exchanged another speaking glance with her brother, and he nodded slightly. After the family talk, the two of them would have one of their own. This waiting game of Carlisle's just wasn't working.

"Bella," Edward murmured as the rest of the family left, shutting the door behind them. He kissed her temple, then slipped two fingers under her chin, asking her to raise her eyes.

She did, slowly, and what he saw confirmed what he had earlier felt - her eyes were bright with tears, but her cheeks were as dry as his shirt. None had fallen. He gazed into the depths of her beautiful eyes, searching for something - anything - to give him a clue how to proceed. She was so delicate, so fragile - not just her human body, but her psyche as well. He'd hurt her once. He was desperate not to do it again.

"I'm so, so sorry," he murmured, "about what happened this morning. So sorry."

She nodded slightly, her eyes locked with his. "I'm sorry, too." Her voice was still raw, and Edward almost winced. Once she was calm enough to go downstairs with the rest of the family, he vowed, he'd make her some tea with honey to soothe her throat. He wasn't willing to leave her long enough to do it just yet.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart."

She shook her head a little, raising a trembling hand to press against his cheek. "I made you sad," she said, "and I'm sorry for that." She coughed and cleared her throat, wincing a little as it grated on the words. "You scared me, it's true, but I overreacted."

"Your reaction was out of your control." He took her hand and laced their fingers, kissing her fingertips one by one. "Rosalie told me what you said," he told her, a little hesitant, hoping that he was doing the right thing by admitting that they had spoken while Bella slept. "About me not asking. And you were right, Bella. So right. I was stupid, and I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I was just trying to help - you were shivering, and I wanted to warm you up. But I was being selfish, too. I didn't want to let you go, but you know how cold I am compared to you."

"Yes," Bella said faintly, dropping her eyes as they danced carefully around the Cullen secret, the topic that hung over almost every conversation they seemed to have. "I've noticed."

"So I'm sorry, sweet one," he said. "Will you forgive me?"

She smiled, and though the smile was tremulous, it was real. "Will you kiss me?"

An answering smile broke across his face, and he pressed his forehead to hers. "Just say the word," he breathed.

"Yes."

His mouth dipped down as hers tipped up, and when he felt the first hesitant brush of her soft lips Edward melted. Relief flooded through him as he pressed his mouth gently against hers, moving slowly, tracing the contours of her full lips. She slipped her arms around him again, pressing her body close to his. That she was so willing to forgive after what he'd done...it floored him. He was not the forgiving type, himself, and he didn't know how she was able to brush something like that aside so easily.

"I will kiss you whenever you like," he murmured, pressing small kisses to her mouth between words. "Wherever you like."

"Wherever?" She raised an eyebrow. "You mean, like, in a car or something?"

"Car." He kissed her mouth. "Grocery store." He kissed her chin. "Disneyland." He kissed the quivering muscle of her jaw. "Mount Everest." He kissed her ear, then pulled the lobe into his mouth.

Bella giggled. "That tickles," she said, squirming as he blew a light breath. "I just didn't know if by 'where' you meant the setting or the placement of a kiss."

Edward pulled back, looking into her dark, sparkling eyes. The tears had faded from them, and now they shone with a light he'd only seen once before - last night, in his room. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life, the way her eyes flashed and then deepened when they locked with his. She was innocently charming, pressed against him, asking for kisses. His mouth watered, and he swallowed almost convulsively.

"That, too," he agreed. He opened his mind to his family members downstairs, but they all seemed to be happily working on preparations for Bella's party, and no one was attempting to monitor him or Bella. Smiling a little, he pulled his entire attention back to the tempting little human girl in his arms. "What do you say, Bella, sweetheart?"

She slid her arms around him, spots of pink appearing in her cheeks. "I want to be held," she said, her voice a little hesitant - shy. "I want to be kissed." Her eyes flicked up to his again. "By you."

"I should hope by me," Edward said, smiling as he gathered her closer to him. "If I had my way, I'd be the only one kissing you - ever."

Her heartbeat began to race at his words, and Edward hoped that meant they pleased her. He knew he was horribly possessive, and that that was not a particularly well thought of quality in a man these days. But he couldn't help it; the way she looked at him and her shy little touches made him want to wrap his body around her forever, never letting go.

"Pretty girl," he crooned, and he touched his lips to her cheek. "Tell me, then. Where do you want to be kissed?"

For a moment she stared at him, and he wasn't sure if she was going to play along. Then a hesitant little smile touched her mouth, and she relaxed into his arms. "Here," she said, brushing the fingers of one hand across the side of her throat. Edward happily complied, his mouth moving over the tender skin. She let out a pleased, "Oh..." and her body relaxed even more as he pressed slow kisses down the sweet, soft line of throat. He felt her pulse beating clearly against his lips and, being as careful as possible, he drew her pounding pulse point into his mouth, sucking at her skin, careful to keep his teeth away. "Edward..." she gasped, her head falling to the side, giving him better access. A sweet wash of air hit him as her hair slid away, and he breathed in the enticing fragrance.

"I'm here, sweet one," he said, reluctantly releasing her flesh and returning to little licks and kisses. He didn't know how susceptible to marking she might be, and he was willing to bet that a hickey would not please her. He worked his way slowly toward the back of her neck, supporting her leaning body in his arms. She was warm below the sweep of her long hair, and he kissed the pale, velvety peach fuzz at the nape of her neck. "Where next, sweet one?"

She swept a hand across the curve of her shoulder, and Edward smiled. He leaned over slowly, settling them both on their sides on the bed, and spooned up close behind her. With his free hand he drew a gentle line across her collarbone, finding the top button on her pajama shirt. He slipped just the first button free, and with the extra slack, drew the collar of the soft flannel shirt to the side, exposing the gleaming skin of her shoulder. He placed a closed-mouth kiss at the apex before urging Bella to turn toward him, onto her back. She did, her arms reaching for him, her eyes dark with affection and want. Edward dropped his head to her shoulder again, working his mouth slowly inward toward the lovely, shadowed hollow where her voice sounded. He licked, and used his lips to mimic nibbling sensations, since he could not use his teeth. Bella was warm and pliable, her hands stroking through his hair, urging him on. "Kiss me, please, Edward," she almost begged. "Kiss me."

"Tell me where," he reminded her, his mouth tracing up her throat again.

She didn't respond in words, but moved her head with a deft little twist that he was surprised his clumsy little Bella was able to make. Her mouth met his, hungry and warm, and her hands tightened in his hair. He growled, a low, needy sound, and pressed harder against her. He was powerless to deny her anything when she asked, and so far all she had asked for was touch - to be held, to be kissed and loved and cared for. He understood why she asked for these things: it wasn't just the pleasure of physicality, but the meaning behind the actions that she craved. For a girl who had been so lonely for so long, the experience of finally being held was heady and strong. Edward suspected, with the part of his mind still able to think clearly, that the Cullen family had tapped an emptiness inside her, a need that had never before been met, and like a desert wanderer gone too long without water, Bella was now frantic to slake a keen thirst for contact, for affection - for love. Edward knew that. It was plain by her words and her actions. If his intentions had been merely physical toward her, he hoped this understanding would be enough to keep him away from her - keep him from hurting her more. But he didn't just want sex. He wanted a partner, a lover - a friend. Wanted someone to care for the way Carlisle cared for Esme, and vise versa. He kissed her mouth tenderly, careful even through the passion. He was willing to be whatever Bella needed him to be, and if she wanted his body as much as his heart...well, he wasn't complaining. For so long he'd been alone, too. He'd virtually given up on the idea of having his own mate, after living a century without one. But then this little dark-haired human girl who barely spoke had come into his life, and there was nothing he could do except fall. And fall for her he did - hard.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, stealing her lower lip for a moment, sucking it into his mouth. "So delicious..."

She snaked her head to the side when he released her, using her human teeth to nibble at his earlobe. "Please," she begged, molding herself to him tightly, "don't make me go back. Don't make me go back to Charlie."

Edward pulled away from her tempting skin immediately, shock flooding his system like a bucket of ice water poured over his head. "What?" He stared at her big dark eyes. "Baby, what made you say that?"

"I just..." She stopped, and her eyes filled with tears again. "Don't make me," she whispered.

"Bella..." He pulled her close again, holding her tightly. "You're not going back, sweetheart. Not ever. Haven't Carlisle and Esme told you that?"

"Esme said something," Bella admitted, "but I wasn't really...I just..." She sniffled, running a sleeve across her face, but she wasn't quite crying yet. "It's like a dream, being here with you." She touched his shirt gently, and Edward understood that the  _you_  in this case had been just for him, not his family. "I don't want to wake up."

"Good," he said, catching her face in his hands and stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. He stared deep into her eyes, willing her to believe him. "Because you're not dreaming, Bella. You're here with me, and I'm never letting you go."

"Promise?" The word was no more than a breath.

Edward pressed his forehead to hers again, sharing breath, warm and cold. "I promise," he said. "I'm crazy about you, Bella Swan, and I'm going to protect you. I'm never letting you go again."

* * *

In the living room, Jasper paused with a screwdriver in his hand and glanced toward the stairs.

"What is it this time?" Rosalie asked, following his gaze but seeing nothing and hearing nothing unusual from upstairs. Bella and Edward had been talking - if she strained her ears, she could hear a low buzz of voices from here, but not the words.

Jasper's face flickered with warmth. "Love," he said quietly.

Esme stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She and Rose shared a glance. "I just hope he knows what he's doing," she said quietly.

"Me, too." Rosalie sat on the white loveseat, examining Emmett and Jasper's forbidden present to Bella. "And I thought Alice was the one we'd have to worry about going overboard," she quipped.

Emmett threw a big sheet over the gift, then peeled the sticky back off of a big red bow and stuck it to the sheet. "She'll love it," he said confidently.

"Mm-hm." Rose patted his shoulder. "Say goodbye now, buddy, because Edward's going to kill you when he finds out you didn't listen."

"No, he won't," Jasper said, standing and putting the tools away in the toolbox. "Because Bella's decided she likes the big guy here, and Ed won't do anything that makes Bella upset."

"Whipped," Alice mouthed.

"You watch it, missy," Rose said, though she was no longer really mad at her little sister. "You're still in hot water for running out on Bella."

Alice scowled. "I said I was sorry! And I didn't even get to get her a present! Jasper and Emmett did, and I didn't."

Rose glanced hesitantly at Esme before answering. "You could always go in with Edward and I."

"What?" Alice hollered, jumping up. " _You_  got her a present, too? You were the ones who said no presents!"

"It wasn't much, really," Rose said with a shrug. She glanced at Esme again, who only shook her head and chuckled. "We got her something she needed."

Alice pouted. "I can go in with you?"

"If you must."

Alice rounded on Esme. "Did  _you_  get her a present, too?"

"It's possible," Esme admitted.

"Am I the only one following the rules here?"

"Well," Emmett reasoned, "the rules were kind of made for you. So we all figured the rest of us were allowed to break them."

"You just think you all like Bella more than I do!"

"Come on, twee girl," Jasper said fondly, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "Let me show you the present you're buying into."

"Do I get to wrap it?" she asked hopefully.

"It might be a little big for that," he said, leading her out the front door.

Esme wandered over to Rosalie and put an arm around her shoulder. "What are we doing?" she asked, shaking her head and chuckling. "Making such a fuss over a little human girl. Sometimes I wonder if it's for her sake, or Edward's."

"You love her, Esme," Rose said, " admit it."

"Oh, I do," Esme said easily. "As if she were my own. But I still wonder."

"Whether we'd be so concerned about keeping her with us rather than finding her a nice foster home?"

"Something like that." Esme sighed. "I want what's best for her. I also want Edward to be what's best, but who can answer that question? Not even Alice."

"That's life," Rose said, shrugging a little. "If he loves her, and she loves him, I say let them be. Anything's better than letting her go back to that demon she calls a father."

"I just don't want her to regret it, later on, when she has more perspective. Becoming one of us isn't a choice she can take back, you know."

"I know better than anyone," Rose said. "Believe me. And that's what Edward's terrified of. He wants the answers to life, when the only way through is to live it." She grimaced. "If living is, in fact, what we do."

"It is," Esme said firmly. "I look at the new light in Edward's eyes, and I know it."

* * *

An hour later, Edward led Bella downstairs, her hand clasped firmly in his. She was dressed in her own jeans and a grey henley, and looked much more comfortable than she had in Alice's loaned khakis. Her face was clean of all makeup, and she'd obviously showered. Her hair was blow-dried, and it shone in the warm light of the Cullen household. Though the bruise on her cheek was more visible than it had been after Alice's ministrations the day before, the dark circles under her eyes had faded quite a bit. Another few nights of quiet sleep and Esme hoped they might disappear altogether.

"Bella!" Alice greeted, giving her a hug and then sweeping her away from Edward. He let go of Bella's hand for fear of hurting her if Alice insisted on a tug-of-war, but he was not pleased. Bella cast a glance back at him, and from the look on her face, she was not happy, either.

Alice didn't seem to notice, and she tugged Bella forward into the living room. "We've got a surprise for you, Bella, but don't worry. It's a good one."

Bella's expression was full of caution, but she let herself be pulled along and everyone else trooped after. They rounded the corner, and all Bella could do was stare.

A glittery "Happy Birthday" banner hung across the ceiling, and the entire room was decorated with helium balloons and crepe paper streamers in hues of blue, purple, and silver. A pink cake stood in pride of place on the coffee table, lit candles burning cheerily.

"I hope you like it," Esme said, coming up behind her and squeezing her shoulders. "We had a hard time keeping Alice from going overboard."

Bella's face had turned deep red. "It's not my birthday," she said in a small, trembling voice.

"We know that, honey," Carlisle said, smiling kindly. "But when I glanced through your medical files the other day, I noticed that your birthday hadn't been very long ago. We wanted to do something to make you feel welcome, like a part of the family, and we hoped a belated birthday party might help." His smile turned a little bashful, which was unusual for him. "I hope you don't mind."

"We just want you to feel at home with us, Bella," Esme continued. "Like a real Cullen."

 _But I'm not a Cullen,_  Bella thought, her head whirling to process everything she was seeing and feeling. She was absolutely overwhelmed that anyone would do this for her, and she blinked back tears. The decorations were in her favorite colors, even. How had they known? She touched a curly silver ribbon leading to a deep blue balloon.

"I hope we guessed the colors right," Rose said, as if reading her thoughts. "I went with the colors your clothes were, when Emmett and I swiped them from Charlie's for you."

"This is amazing," Bella said, her voice small.

"Blow out your candles, Bella, before they drip wax everywhere," Alice urged.

Bella knelt obediently next to the coffee table, wincing a little when her new bruise touched the carpet.

"Make a wish, and blow. Remember, no telling."

Bella had never been one for wishes. In her experience, they never came true. But in that moment she sought out Edward's eyes. He was watching her, his eyes shining with a terrifying amount of emotion. She took a breath and blew out the candles, wishing, as she did so, that she would b e able to remember his eyes in that moment forever.

Alice and Emmett cheered when the candles were blown out. Edward pushed his way to Bella's side and helped her to her feet, and Esme gave her a little hug. "Happy birthday, sweetheart," she said. "We're so happy to have you."

Bella trembled at those words. They were the ones she had so longed to hear, for years now. Why, then, did they also seem frightening?

"Presents time!" Alice announced. "Who wants to go first?"

"Presents?" Bella stammered, horrified. "No - I couldn't - "

"Too bad, because you are," Alice retorted calmly. "It's your birthday party, and we like you, so you're getting presents."

"Edward..." Bella protested, not knowing where else to turn. She pulled away from Alice's hand and buried her face in his chest. He chuckled and slipped his arms around her, holding her close.

"Just go with it," he urged, nuzzling her hair gently. "It's easier that way. She'll settle down once she gets her way."

Bella continued to hide. "I don't like presents," she said nervously.

"You'll like mine and Jasper's," Emmett said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging playfully, urging her out of Edward's grasp. "Come on and see."

She peeked around Edward's arm at Emmett's dimpled grin and couldn't help smiling back. "Is it a video game?" she asked.

"Nah," he said, his grin widening. "Good guess, though. Come see."

Reluctantly, Bella allowed herself to be drawn away from Edward. He followed behind her, keeping close, as Emmett led her across the room to the far corner, where a sheet covered an oddly-shaped thing. A bow had been stuck to the sheet, it looked like, though it now lay on the floor. Bella found that detail oddly touching.

"Aaaand here it is!" Emmett said proudly, grasping the sheet and whipping it off.

Below the sheet sat a Dracula themed pinball machine.

Bella's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes big and round. "You can't be serious!" she protested.

"It's set up for home use," Emmett said. "You don't even have to put in a quarter." He pressed the green Start button to demonstrate, and the machine came to life, lights flashing and sounds beeping. "Don't worry," he added. "The game comes complete with lessons from Yours Truly." He grinned again and wiggled his eyebrows at her. "So you like it, huh?"

"It's...amazing," Bella breathed. She glanced at Edward, then slowly stepped forward to inspect the bright colors and moving parts inside the game board. "But don't you think it's a little much?"

"This family doesn't know the meaning of the word overkill," Carlisle said with a small chuckle. "All in all, I think you got lucky, Bella."

"Yeah," Edward agreed, taking her hand again, squeezing it soothingly. "Carlisle gave Esme an island once."

Bella could do nothing but stare. "You're kidding."

"Nope." Emmett pulled back the knob to start the first ball out onto the playing board. "Named it after her and everything. Maybe you'll see it someday if you stick around."

"He really gave you an island?"

Esme smiled at Carlisle. "I'll admit,  _that_  particular gift was perhaps overkill," she said, her smile gentle. "We've all enjoyed it, though."

Bella shook her head, leaning back into the hard bulk of Edward's body. There was so much about this family that she just couldn't comprehend , and the way they spent money was only one of those instances. "You're not the mob, are you?" she asked, mock-suspiciously.

That got pleased laughter from the entire family. "No, silly Bella," Emmett said, putting his big hand on top of her head and ruffling her hair. "Not the mob. Now come see the rest of your presents."

Bella unwillingly followed the Cullens outside, glancing nervously around at the late afternoon shadows under the trees. She hadn't been outdoors since Charlie had forced her outside in only her underwear, the night Rosalie found her and Edward brought her back to his house. She huddled close to Edward, not wanting to be out of his grasp. Inside the Cullen house she felt more or less safe, but outdoors anything could happen. Charlie could get her here. There were no doors or locks to stop him.

"It's okay, baby," Edward said gently, his hand rubbing her back as she nestled against his side. "You're safe. Nothing's going to happen with all of us here."

"And you said you couldn't read my mind."

He chuckled. "I can't, but then again, I don't need to. I can feel how scared you are, little lamb. You're trembling."

"Here, Bella," Alice interrupted. "This is from me, and Rosalie, and Edward."

Bella frowned. All she saw was the Cullen driveway with a couple of cars in it. "What is?" she asked carefully.

"Goose!" Alice poked her. "The Volvo, silly. The black one."

Bella's jaw dropped. Yes, there was Edward's shiny silver Volvo, and next to it was a nearly identical black one.

"Your old truck is rusted to shit," Rosalie said matter-of-factly. "You needed new wheels, babe."

"I wanted to get you an armored car," Edward added, and Bella could not entirely tell whether he was kidding or not. "To keep you safe. This was the next best thing."

"You guys..." Bella shook her head in disbelief. "This is too much. Way too much. I can't..."

"Calm down, Bella," Edward said, rubbing her back again. "Remember what I said? Just go with it."

"But - "

"We do this because we love you, babe. Say thank you, and move on," Rose suggested.

"Thank you," Bella stammered automatically. "But - "

"No buts," Carlisle said kindly, with a little smile. He held out a small package. "Here's my gift."

Bella took the wrapped present with shaking hands. Unwrapping it slowly, she found a sleek new black cell phone.

"I already entered into it all our cell numbers, as well as the house phone and my office number at the hospital." Carlisle paused, looking a little hesitant. "I almost added your mother's number, Bella, but I decided finally to let you make that choice for yourself." He reached out and touched her shoulder gently. "This phone is safe, Bella. Your father has no way of knowing the number unless you tell him."

"Thank you," Bella breathed, and her eyes shone as she blinked up at him. It was the smallest gift she'd been given so far, and yet in some ways the biggest. Emmett and Jasper's gift of the pinball machine, while cute, she suspected was really more for them than for her. And the car, the gleaming black car, she could not accept. It was too grand a gift. But the phone...Carlisle's gift of a cell phone whose number Charlie did not know...that gift represented a slow step toward freedom, toward the independence she so craved from her terrifying father.

"Do you want to take your car out for a test drive?" Alice asked excitedly.

Bella hesitated. She didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but she also did not want to drive that car. It was beautiful, but it was too much. She turned the new phone over and over in her hands and leaned back against the comforting solidity of Edward's torso. His arms wrapped around her, and he kissed the top of her head.

"That might not be the best idea just yet," Carlisle said apologetically. "We don't want Charlie catching sight of her. Best to stay around the house for a few more days, until we know more about what's to be done."

Bella smiled gratefully at the doctor, who smiled back as if in understanding. She took Edward's hand as he released her waist, and followed him gladly back inside. She'd never been afraid of the outdoors before, but with the possibility of Charlie lurking just about anywhere except inside the Cullen house, she didn't want to be outside, even with Edward's reassuring presence.

"What do you want first, Bella?" Esme asked, smiling as she drew her into the kitchen. Something smelled wonderful, and Bella lifted her nose, breathing in the warm, spicy scent. "Cake or dinner?"

"Dinner, please," Bella said quickly, smiling at Esme's pleased expression. "Whatever it is, it smells wonderful."

"It does, ma," Emmett said, trailing after them and sniffing appreciatively. "What have you been up to?"

"Paella." Esme pulled the lid off a wide, shallow pan, and a billowing cloud of steam exploded into the air. "It's a recipe I've always wanted to try, but it's meant for a special occasion." She drew Bella under her arm as the human girl peered into the pan. "Your birthday gave me a wonderful excuse."

Bella inhaled the warm, rich smell of slow-simmered saffron rice, seafood, garlic, and citrus. "I can cook," she murmured, "but I can't do anything like _this_."

"Nonsense," Esme said, giving her a little squeeze before releasing her. "Any time you're up for a cooking adventure, Bella, just come find me. It's really not as difficult as it looks."

Bella eyed Esme carefully for a moment before deciding on her next words. "It seems," she said cautiously, "that it might be more difficult for you. Since you don't eat, and all."

Both Esme and Emmett's heads whipped around to stare at her. Bella heard a low chuckle from the doorway and turned to see Rosalie leaning on the doorjamb.

"Bravo, babe," Rose said, giving a couple of leisurely claps. "How'd you figure that one out?"

"Well," Bella said, feeling her cheeks turning pink, "nobody's ever sat down to eat with me here, but you're all rushing to get me food all the time, whether I'm hungry or not." Feeling daring, she reached daintily into the pan and pulled out a bright red crayfish between thumb and forefinger, dangling it in front of Emmett's face. "What I can't understand, though, is why Emmett seems so fascinated by food when he doesn't eat it."

Emmett stuck his tongue out playfully, narrowly missing the crayfish. Bella giggled and set it carefully back in the pan. "Rose's right," he said, grinning. "You're something, little sis."

Bella paused. "I always kind of wanted a big brother," she said, a little wistfully. "It seemed like it would be nice."

Emmett's dimpled smile was wide and deep. "Little sisters are great. I've already got that demonic pixie in there," he said, nodding his head toward the living room where they could clearly hear Alice bickering pleasantly with Jasper and Carlisle about a movie choice. "But I say the more the merrier."

"Me, too." Esme reached slowly into the kangaroo pocket of her sweater. "I have a gift for you, too, Bella, but I wanted to give it to you when everything had quieted down some." She smiled gently and drew from her pocket what was clearly a jewelery box, though it was much bigger than the typical ring-sized box Bella had seen so often on TV.

"Oh, Esme, I really couldn't," she tried to protest, but Esme put the maroon velvet box in her hands.

"Go on," she said. "Open it."

Bella lifted the lid with care. The box was old, she could tell. The velvet was worn around the edges, and the hinge was loose with age. As she raised the lid, she let out a startled breath. "Oh, Esme..."

Inside, settled against beige satin, lay a gorgeous art nouveau necklace. Bella didn't have to question whether it was authentic or not - she was not well-versed in antiques, but there was no way this piece of jewelery was a reproduction. From a delicate gold chain dropped a thistle pendant enameled in pale heathery color, with several curved gold and enamel leaves. Two decorative drops attached from the chain to the sides of the thistle pendant. Bella counted seven tiny pearls glowing beautifully within the necklace.

"Each of my daughters has something from my mother's family," Esme said quietly. "Now you do, too."

Bella could only stare, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. "I-I don't know what to say."

"Say thank you, Bella," Rose said, touching her shoulder. "Look." She held out her wrist, on which sat a gorgeous antique bracelet set with fire opals and coral. "Here's mine."

"It's beautiful," Bella murmured.

"Let's help get yours on." Rose took the necklace from the box and carefully undid the clasp, sliding it around Bella's throat. It was cold as it settled against her skin. Bella heard the soft click of the clasp and she looked down to see the gleaming thistle settled just below her collarbone. It felt good - not too heavy, but heavy enough that she could feel it against her skin when she moved.

"I don't know how to thank you, Esme," she murmured, slipping her arms around Esme's waist, hugging her tightly.

"You're perfectly welcome, sweetheart." Esme's voice was pleased, and she hugged Bella back. "It makes me happy to see some of these old things getting some use again."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

"Carlisle, you can't seriously expect us to just sit and watch that girl cower in fear while the bureaucrats at the state stand around holding their dicks instead of helping her!"

"Rosalie. Language,  _please_." Esme covered her eyes with her hands for a long moment, and the rest of the Cullens stilled instantly. It wasn't like their mother figure to be so upset, and it troubled all of them. Though each Cullen separately was very protective of his or her own mate, they were all protective of Esme as well. She was their mother, after all. Emmett and Alice remembered nothing of their first, human mothers. Edward's memories were vague, the years and the change made even her image dim in his mind. Rose remembered, but she also remembered well that Esme had been a steady rock of understanding after she woke to this new life, memories of her attack still fresh in her mind, and she felt a keen sense of gratitude and affection because of it. Jasper had grown up without a mother, his having died when he was very young, but he respected Esme deeply for her tender heart and kind feelings, which had soothed him many times as he struggled with the overwrought emotions of those around him.

Now all the Cullen "kids" waited silently in the living room, their eyes cautious, as Esme pulled herself back together. Carlisle walked behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently.

"I'm sorry," Esme said finally. "I don't mean to snap. But, please, we don't need any infighting. Things are bad enough as it is. Let's try to figure this out together, all right?"

Rose and Carlisle shared an understanding glance, which was all the apology Rosalie would ever show, even to her erstwhile parents. They understood. While she cared deeply for her family, there was a hardness - a fierce, angry pride - to their elder daughter that would never go away. It was part of her personality, part of what made Rosalie herself and not Alice or Emmett, and to accept Rose as part of their family meant to accept all of her, just as they accepted Alice's whimsies and Edward's sulking.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Carlisle said, and real regret hung in his voice. "Especially to Bella, who has to suffer because bureaucracies are slow. But Charlie knows she's here. Whatever else he may be, the man is not stupid. He is intelligent, and manipulative, and an excellent actor. This has been going on almost Bella's entire life, and nobody has guessed a thing. Not even her mother."

"Fucking hag," Rose muttered. Everyone glanced at Esme, but she did not reprimand Rosalie about her language this time. She almost seemed to agree, no matter how much her sweet nature disliked the sentiment.

"What I'm saying is that we can't just up and leave with her. He'll know perfectly well we have her. The world is getting smaller every day as human technology advances. It's getting harder and harder to hide ourselves, to move from place to place without leaving a paper trail. If we left with Bella, Charlie would follow us. He'd have a media circus descending on this little town, and he'd play the heartbroken father with a kidnapped daughter at the center of it all. Our photos would be plastered all over the world press, and the Volturi would know within a matter of days that we had a human girl living with us. You all know the consequences of that."

Nobody spoke to refute Carlisle, but Edward heaved an impatient sigh.

"I know, son," Carlisle said. "Believe me, I know." He lowered his voice, and though the tone turned comforting, it wasn't his doctor's voice he used now. It was the voice of a husband and father, one who understood what his son was going through. "If I had found Esme after she married Charles, before she ran away, I would have felt exactly as you do. I would want to get her as far away from him as possible, before returning to rip him to pieces. Believe me, I understand. But now is not the time. Drinking blood is instinctual to vampires, but which part did you have to learn, after your change? Not the kill - that comes naturally."

"We all had to learn how to watch, and wait," Jasper said. "To seek out the opportune moment to pounce."

"Exactly." Carlisle stared hard at Edward and Rose, knowing full well that they were the most likely to mutiny. "Now is not the opportune moment. If we must act so decisively as to remove Bella from Forks, it must be done with care and precision. And at the right time. That time is not now."

"When, then?" Edward demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alice?"

She shook her head regretfully. "I can't see," she said. "We're still waiting for some key decision that hasn't yet been made."

"This is ridiculous," Rosalie snapped. "This isn't some sporting hunt, Carlisle, this is a girl's  _life_ we're talking about. How long can we just sit and wait? How long until she breaks from the strain?"

Carlisle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know. The mind is an amazing thing, though you're correct. Eventually it can snap under strain, like anything."

Jasper glanced at the ceiling, and all talking ceased for a long moment. Upstairs, all was silent.

"She's still asleep," he said, his words directed at Edward, "but her dreams are unpleasant."

"You can see them?"

"No, but I can feel what they make her feel. She's afraid." Jasper paused, opening himself a little more to Bella's dreaming emotions. "Perhaps a little angry, too," he said slowly, as if naming a subtle flavor note in a mouthful of wine.

"Anger is good," Carlisle murmured. "Anger means she hasn't given up."

Jasper nodded once, his face solemn. "Anger is the dark twin of hope. One cannot live without the other."

"Finally, some good news," Emmett said, stretching back in his chair.

"Good news?" Edward spat. "How about happiness? Laughter? Optimism?  _That's_  good news. Tell me where  _that_  is, in Bella's mind."

It had been meant as a snarky rhetorical question, but Jasper answered. "With thoughts of you," he said quietly.

"Oh, so you read her mind, too, now?" Edward snapped.

"I don't have to."

Edward muttered something that no one could hear, but did not offer any fresh argument, so Carlisle continued.

"I'm waiting for the state to send someone out to see Bella," Carlisle said. "It's only been a couple of days. I know patience is not everybody's strong point, but these things take time. If we don't hear back from them by the end of the day Monday, I promise, we'll start in on a different tactic. Right now, please, let's just sit tight. Tomorrow is Sunday, and I want Bella to rest as much as possible. Monday she will stay here with Esme, and the rest of us will go to work and school as usual, to help keep up the appearance that nothing is wrong. Monday night, we'll sit down with Bella and discuss her options. I don't want anyone doing anything rash in the meantime. We'll speak again Monday evening. Is that clear?"

While nobody was happy with the enforced idleness, everyone reluctantly agreed. It was only two more days, and Bella would be safe in the house in the meantime.

"We neglected to go over this last night," Carlisle said, suddenly remembering, "but, Alice, if you wouldn't mind telling us what you called Bella to make her panic yesterday?"

"I called her Bells," Alice said readily, regret marring her voice. "I thought it was cute. Have you heard her laugh? It almost sounds like little bells."

"It's not your fault, Alice," Rose said. "You couldn't have known."

"True. And now that we do, that nickname is off the table. Bella is too fragile to try something like aversion therapy to free her from that trigger right now. In time, we may be able to try, but for now, please refrain."

"You don't have to tell us twice," Emmett said with a grimace. "Poor kid panics enough already; there's no way we're going to make it worse."

"Thank you, Emmett." Carlisle glanced around the room. "Jasper and Alice hunted before our family meeting. I'd like the rest of us to hunt now - just in case. We can't be too careful with a human in the house."

Both Edward and Rose blanched. "You sure?" Rose didn't look like she was ready to budge.

"Jasper can deal with any outside threat, and Alice can soothe Bella if she wakes while we're out." Esme said. "I know you want to protect her all the time. Believe me, I do, too. But if she's going to be part of this family, we all have to trust each other to take care of our own." Esme held her hand out to Edward.

He reluctantly took it, but glanced back at Jasper and Alice before leaving. "I'm trusting you to take care of her," he said solemnly. "If one hair on her head is harmed - "

"It will be fine, Edward," Esme said. She tugged gently on his hand. "We'll only be gone a few hours. I promise, she'll be okay."

* * *

Bella woke to the sound of her phone buzzing on the little desk where it had been replaced after the Cullens listened to the message from Charlie. She looked over at the table, at the dim illumination of the phone as it told her there was a caller. The instinctual part of her that told her a phone needed to be answered was quashed by the stronger part of her that knew perfectly well she did not want to talk to anyone who would call that phone. The Cullens would use the new number, for the new phone Carlisle had given her, which left only Charlie, Renee, and one or two friends from Phoenix that she would just as soon cut ties with. Now that she had met the Cullens, she understood what true friendship was. True friends asked what was wrong, and didn't stop when you tried to cover up your pain. True friends did everything in their power to stop it. Bella understood now that her "friendships" in Phoenix were never relationships of that caliber. And now that she had met the Cullens, she couldn't go back to that sort of shallow, day-to-day sort of acquaintance.

But knowing that Charlie was more than likely trying to call her - that he was probably in his house right now, pacing a little, the receiver of the old wall phone crammed tight against his cheek - sent a thrill of fear up her spine. She couldn't fall back to sleep now, not by herself, not just like that. Not after that vision of Charlie, and knowing that, at this very moment, he was thinking about her.

The phone stopped buzzing, and Bella waited a long moment. He did not attempt to call back, and she released her held breath, allowing her body to relax a little into the soft bed.

Another vibration sounded from the desk, and Bella gasped a little, without meaning to. She hadn't expected him to leave another message, but apparently he had.

Her first instinct was to grab the phone and chuck it out the window. She had no wish to see it ever again, now that it was fully aligned with Charlie in her mind. She was appalled and extremely embarrassed that he had managed to make her panic with just a voicemail, and that the Cullens had had to - yet again - talk her down from the attack. Bella sighed, staring across the room at the now-quiet phone. It wasn't fair to them, that they had to babysit a silly girl who couldn't even control her reactions to something as stupid as a phone message. It just wasn't fair. She sniffed hard, forcing back angry tears. It wasn't fair to her, either, that Charlie could reduce her to a trembling, crying wreck with just a few words. She shook her head a little and rubbed at her watering, stinging eyes furiously with the heels of her hands.

Her second instinct was to grab the phone and head downstairs, giving it to Carlisle or Esme as more evidence against Charlie. She had absolutely no doubt, even without listening to the message, that there was nothing good on it.

Hastening to comply with this second decision, Bella slid out of bed and padded in her socked feet over to the desk where the now-mute phone lay. She reached out and grasped the cool plastic, but paused. She hated to worry the Cullens any more than they were already worried. It wasn't fair to them. What were they to her, anyway? Friends? Alice and Rose, and even Emmett...yes. Yes, those three, she thought, she could call friends. But what about their parents? Esme was the mother Bella had always wished for, but surely that was one-sided. What was Bella to her, she wondered? A worry, certainly, she thought. A bother. And to Carlisle? A patient, most likely. A friend of his daughters. Nothing more. Bella glanced down at herself, dressed again in her baggy sleep shirt and boxer shorts. What else could she possibly be to any of them? She didn't think Jasper had said even two words to her, in the few days she'd been at his house.

And what of Edward?

Thinking his name made Bella's heart ache. She sniffed again, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be in his arms. He didn't seem to mind holding her, no matter how many times she ran to him for comfort. But surely he'd start minding before long. She wasn't anything he could possibly want. She had more baggage than he knew about, and while he hadn't seemed repulsed by her for being Charlie's punching bag, the rest - the rest that she had not been able to make herself tell anyone, yet - would certainly end any hope she had of being anything to him.

Bella felt her hands begin to tremble as the first tear spilled from her eye.  _Edward._  Even his name made her want things she knew she could never have. She was too broken for that. In too deep, too deep to ever be free of what Charlie and his friends had done to her. Another tear fell.

But through her swimming, wavering line of vision, something caught Bella's eye. On the desk, near her neat pile of books, lay the maroon velvet jewelery case that held Esme's necklace. Bella had removed the gift and put it back in the box when she changed for bed, not wanting to damage the antique by sleeping on it. Now the box held her eyes, and she stared at it for a long moment.

There - there was physical proof that Esme, for whatever reason, cared about her. That Esme thought enough of her to bequeath her something precious from her past, from her mother's family. It was that, more than the elegance of the lovely necklace itself, that made an impression on Bella. You didn't give heirlooms to your daughter's friends as if they were after-school snacks. Unbidden, the memory of a late-night peanut butter sandwich rose in Bella's mind, and the feeling of being warm and cared for, sitting quietly in the bright Cullen kitchen with Esme. The necklace and the sandwich were things she could not explain away by feeling sorry for herself. They were proof that somebody cared.  _Esme_  cared. Esme thought she was worth something. Esme had not given up on her. Didn't she owe it to Esme, then, not to give up on herself?

It seemed like the kind of horrible thing a therapist would say, and Bella wrinkled her nose at the sentiment. It was the sort of thing that was easy to say but so, so difficult to do. How did you learn to not give up on yourself when that's all you had ever been trained to do?

Bella stared at the phone in her hand. Last time she listened to a message from her father, it broke her. She panicked. She had not been able to do it. She looked from the phone to her closed door and back again. Maybe...maybe if she tried hard, she could listen to this message. Many times, perhaps; as many as she had to in order to inure herself to Charlie's cruel, mocking voice. She blinked back the remains of her tears. Going to the Cullens with this new message seemed so easy compared to listening to it. It seemed like the easy way out - like giving up. Like admitting that she was not strong enough to handle this on her own.

It felt like a ridiculously small baby step, listening to a voicemail from her father. But it was something she thought she could do, a small way to prove to the Cullens that they had not misplaced their faith in her. That she was strong enough to at least try, even if she never fully rid herself of her fear of Charlie.

One step at a time. Would Esme be proud? Bella hoped so.

Slowly, very slowly, Bella accessed her voicemail and raised the phone to her ear.

"Howdy, Bells."

Just the sound of his voice on the other end of the line made Bella's entire body start to tremble violently. She reached blindly for the desk chair and pulled it out, sinking down so she would not fall again.

"You're such a bad girl, ignoring your father's messages. I told you before that I wanted you home, and I meant it." His voice turned from mockingly playful to deadly serious in just a few words, and Bella shuddered, unable to control her body's reactions as fear flowed through her blood. "Looks like you don't care enough about the Cullens to come home when I threatened them, you ungrateful piece of trash. But I already knew you were worthless, didn't I, Bells? You ran away from your poor daddy, leaving him all alone to fend for himself. Now that's not very nice, is it?" He chuckled, and the sound made unpleasant vibrations rake down Bella's spine.

"You listen to me, little girl, and you listen good. I'm through playing around. If you won't come home to keep your precious Cullens safe, then I have no other choice. You have until noon tomorrow - that's noon Sunday, got that? If I don't see you home by then, then I have no choice but to go to the state, to Child Protective Services. You know what will happen if I do that, don't you, Bells? They'll give me someone else to keep me company, someone you begged me not to hurt. But you see, Bells, if you're not here, I'm lonely. You don't want me to be a lonely daddy, do you?" There was a pause. "No. No, you don't."

Bella dropped the phone. His voice had not triggered a full-scale panic attack this time, but she shook as tears dripped from her eyes. She clamped a tight hand over her mouth to keep the sound of sobs from spilling out. It seemed that the Cullens all had extraordinary senses, and could hear things normal people couldn't. She forced her cries of anguish back down her throat, not wanting anyone to come comfort her. Not right now. Now she had to think.

There was no way she was letting someone else suffer at Charlie's hands, not if she could help it. And she knew perfectly well what he was talking about. He had warned her, after... Bella shook her head, forcing the painful memories away. But he had warned her. This was why she could never leave him. If she ever did, he'd simply turn around and start inflicting pain on someone too young and small to defend himself. And it would be her fault.

Bella grasped the jeans she'd been wearing earlier and slowly began dressing. She had no options now. Charlie had her trapped. Her brief respite from pain was over, and when she went back it would be even worse than before. She'd be punished for these few days of peace, and punished badly. She whimpered at the thought before steadfastly shoving her pain back down. Those noises could bring a Cullen up to her room; she had no idea just how keen their hearing might be. She gathered her clothing back into the duffel bag in which Rosalie brought it to her, and scooped her school things back into her school bag. She managed to stifle her sobs, but could not stop the tears that wet her face. She didn't want to leave this place, or these people who had been so kind to her. But she couldn't help it. She didn't have a choice.

Suddenly, Bella paused. Something was swimming in her brain, something...a vague sort of idea. A plan. She didn't know if it would work, but...but didn't she owe it to the people around her to try? It would take some doing.

Bella sniffed again and wiped furiously at her cheeks. She coughed a couple of times, forcing her throat to clear, before she reached out a trembling hand and picked up her old phone again. She tucked it in the kangaroo pocket of a hooded sweatshirt, then slipped the shirt on. She'd still have to leave the Cullens in order for this to work, and face Charlie's wrath. But if she succeeded, Charlie would never be able to hurt anyone except her again...and she might just be able to pay back the Cullens for their unending kindness as well.

Breathing hard, Bella eased her door open and slid into the dim hallway. The house was unnaturally quiet - where was everyone? She didn't know, but she said a prayer of thankfulness. The fewer people around, the less she'd have to argue in order to leave. She opened the door to Carlisle's office, slid through, and closed it behind her.

His big wooden desk stood exactly where she remembered it from when Edward had brought her in here. It seemed like forever ago that they'd had their conversation in this room, sitting in the brown suede chairs over in the corner. Bella remembered the hard feeling of the gleaming wood floor under her knees as she held Edward tightly and made him promise to keep himself and his family safe. She was doing so now by leaving, and he'd have to let her, in order to keep his promise.

Bella felt a moment of regret for what she was doing as she tried the drawer of a filing cabinet. She didn't like snooping. Being sneaky wasn't in her nature. But this was necessary, if she was going to help anyone. She eased out a piece of paper with both Esme and Carlisle's signatures: an invoice for the construction of this house. Perfect. She closed the drawer, taking the paper with her, and went back to her room, packing up the rest of her things.

She felt a pang, leaving behind Esme's necklace and Carlisle's cell phone. But those were gifts for a member of this family, and with this act she was severing herself from them. She sniffed one last time, put the invoice among her school things, and slung her duffel bag over her uninjured shoulder. She held her school bag in her hand, took one last look around the guest room that had almost -  _almost_  - started to feel like hers in the time she'd been here, and left, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Alice stood in the moonlit front yard, Jasper's hand clasped in hers. She could plainly hear Bella's slow footsteps crossing the main floor of the house: it was only a matter of moments until she'd try to sneak past them. She sighed sadly.

"Don't feel bad," Jasper said, squeezing her hand and throwing her his trademark slow Southern smile. "She's a fighter. It's only natural she'd try to fight us, too."

"I know you all say that," Alice said, biting her lip. She caught herself doing it and rolled her eyes. Lovely. She was picking up habits from Bella now. If Emmett knew, he'd never let her live it down. "It's just hard. I can't see her, and it frustrates me."

"I know, darlin." Jasper slid his arms around her, rocking her gently, his smile still in place. "It killed me listening to her, that night, and not being able to help."

"You're so sweet." Alice smiled and nuzzled her nose on his shoulder. "But I adore that girl, I really do. I want her to be my sister so much."

"She likes you, too, Al." Jasper kissed the top of her dark head. "A lot. But this isn't about that. It's about something bigger. She's all torn up right now."

"Well," Alice said, "I'm about to give her a piece of my mind!"

They turned at the sound of the front door opening, and Alice's hands flew to her hips. "Isabella Swan!" she shrieked. "What in god's name are you doing?"

Bella flinched, as Alice knew she would, but she did not attempt to slink back into the house. "Alice - " she tried.

"Don't 'Alice' me!"

"But - "

"I know perfectly well what you're thinking. You want to go back to Charlie. Well, I've got news for you, little girl. You're not going anywhere!"

Bella shook her head. "It's not that easy, Alice."

"Yes. It. Is!"

"No, it's not!" Bella's eyes glittered with tears that wanted to spill, and Alice felt a pang of regret for speaking so harshly, but she had to get it through this girl's skull that it wasn't safe for her to go back to Charlie and she was much better off staying here - here with Edward, and Esme, and Alice herself. "Look," Bella said, her voice trembling, "I can't tell you all of it right now. I just can't. But I have to go. Please believe me."

"Bella, please..."

"Wait," Jasper said, and Alice looked at her husband. His eyes were trained on Bella with a strange intensity. "Let's hear her out. Tell us, Bella, why it's so important that you leave."

Bella stared at him, and Alice didn't have to wonder why. This was the first Jasper had actually spoken to her - really spoken - and it unnerved her. But she rallied quickly, brushing at her eyes with the heel of her free hand. "I can't tell you the whole story, it's too much. But Charlie...he'll hurt someone else if I don't go. Someone small. And it would be my fault. I have to stop it."

Alice frowned. "Who would he hurt?" she demanded. "You don't have any siblings."

"No," Bella said, her cheeks staining pink even in the darkened night. "Not a sibling. Please don't ask me any more. Just let me go. I have to do this."

"No, Bella," Alice said, panic rising as she felt Jasper shift against her. She couldn't see Bella's future, but she could see Jasper's...and Jasper was going to let her go. "We can work this out - find another way. Bella, please!"

"We can't hold her against her will, Alice," Jasper said gently, his voice full of regret. "I'm sorry, baby. I really am. But I think we should give her a chance to do what she needs to do."

"Absolutely not!" Alice folded her arms and planted herself between Bella and the gleaming new black car. "You give me those keys right now, young lady!" she demanded. "You're not leaving, and that's final!"

The sound of a beat-up, rattling engine made itself known, and Alice felt a sinking sensation in her heart as she recognized the rattle as Bella's old truck.

"I left the keys upstairs," Bella said quietly, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry, Alice." She looked at Alice for a long moment as the sound of the truck got louder. Alice smelled the distinct animal stench of werewolf and wrinkled her nose, remembering what Bella had once mentioned about having a friend on the reservation. "I'm sorry. But this is something I have to do, and something you can't save me from." She stepped forward slowly and put her warm arms around Alice, hugging her gently. "You were my first friend," she whispered, tears in her voice. "And I can never thank you enough."

"Bella!" A boy stuck his head out the driver's side window of the truck as it rattled up to the house. He had the unmistakable short hair and bare chest of the werewolves, and he grinned wolfishly at the two scowling vampires. "You woke me up in the middle of the night, you know. Let's get a move on!"

Bella nodded and grabbed her school bag again. "I'm sorry," she whispered one last time before turning to the wolf, waiting in the idling truck. "Good bye, Alice."

As soon as truck, wolf, and Bella disappeared down the driveway, Alice collapsed into Jasper's chest. He rubbed her back and shoulders soothingly. "It'll be all right," he said, though they both knew he had no reason to think so. "It'll be okay. I know you want to protect her, but Bella has to do this. She's on her own journey now."

"But will she come back?" Alice asked, her voice quivering with the tears she could never shed. "I can't see, Jas! Will she come back to us?"

"I don't know, Alice. I don't think even Bella knows right now."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic violence warning for this chapter.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

Jacob Black was conflicted.

He didn't like being conflicted.

He was sixteen years old, and had only recently adapted to his new life as a werewolf, a select, special pack within the tribe, tasked with protecting it from those that sought to hurt them. He was proud of his selection, and tried to please Sam. Pleasing Sam was the same as pleasing his father, and that, in turn, pleased Jake.

Staying on Charlie Swan's good side also pleased Jacob's father, but now Bella had gone and thrown a wrench in that whole dynamic. He eyed her as she sat next to him in the cab of the truck he'd sold her, her face pale but resolute, her eyes never straying from the road ahead of them. He cleared his throat. She flinched slightly, but did not otherwise respond.

"So...you want to tell me why I had to get up in the middle of the night to come rescue you from the Cullens?" he asked. "You know, nobody on the rez likes them. We have an agreement that they have to keep away."

Finally Bella moved, turning her head slowly to look at him. "The Cullens aren't dangerous," she said quietly. "They wouldn't hurt a fly."

Jake snorted. "What planet did you come from?"

Bella eyed him speculatively. "You know their secret, don't you." It wasn't a question.

"Sure do." He glanced back at the road, but it wasn't like there was anyone else out at this time of night. "Question is, do you?"

"I think so," she murmured, her voice almost drowned out by the noise of the old truck. "They didn't tell me or anything, but I think I know."

"And that's why you asked me to come rescue you?"

"No!" Bella snapped her eyes back to him, and her voice was fiercer than he'd ever heard it. "I trust them!"

Jake stared at her, though he could not see her eyes in the darkness of the cab. "Don't."

"Nothing you can say can make me change my mind, Jake."

Jacob shrugged. "Suit yourself. But don't call on me to come get you out of trouble the next time you're over there."

She drew in a long breath and held it: Jacob kept waiting for her to exhale, but she didn't. Finally he slowed the car, pulling onto a gravelly shoulder and throwing it into park. "Okay," he said. "Spit it out, whatever you have to say."

Bella let out her breath and turned to look at him. Jacob fiddled with the cabin light and it flicked on, casting unflattering shadows across Bella's face. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her pretty mouth was solemn. He sighed inwardly. She was a pretty girl, he had to admit. If the whole werewolf thing wasn't standing in the way, he might try dating her, even. He knew neither his father nor hers would object. But Bella was white - European of some sort - and his best chance of having a son to follow in his footsteps was to marry within his tribe. And that meant more to him than chasing a pretty girl, even one as quiet and sweet as Bella.

"I need your help, Jake," she said finally.

He eyed her speculatively. They'd been friends since they were young, and he remembered, as a kid, looking forward to the summer and Christmas vacations when Bella would come to town. The four of them - Charlie, Bella, Billy, and himself - would pack up Billy's truck and head to a lake or river, where the men would settle themselves in folding chairs with their fishing poles and their beer, and he and Bella would find their own amusement along the shore or deeper in the woods. He remembered, also, getting into the normal kind of trouble that kids got into - squabbling with each other like siblings, sometimes, or acting too rowdy and scaring away the fish. His own father had smacked him more than a few times when he misbehaved, but Jacob thought that, even back then, he understood somehow that it was different with Charlie and Bella. Sometimes, when they met early in the dewy summer mornings, Bella's skinny little child's body would be striped with belt marks or covered in bruises. If he innocently asked what happened, Charlie would cuff Bella upside the head and tell Jacob that she didn't know how to behave herself. It was an easy sort of conversation; Jacob understood now that Charlie never felt shame or remorse for what he did to his daughter. He felt she deserved all of it.

And where did you draw the line, really, Jacob wondered as he looked at Bella now, watching him with pleading eyes in the cabin of her truck. What happened behind closed doors was private. He was sixteen years old - who was he to judge how the police chief chose to parent? It was Charlie's right, after all, to do with his kid what he saw fit.

"Look, Jake," she said, her voice trembling but steady, "I know your dad is friends with my dad. But I really, really need your help." She blinked, and he saw a gleam in her eye that he thought might be tears, though they did not fall. "I forgive you for not stepping up or saying anything. It's an awkward situation for you, and I get that. I don't hold it against you."

Jacob felt an uncomfortable churn in his stomach. It rather felt like guilt, and he didn't want to feel guilt. He resolutely told himself that he had nothing to feel guilty for.

"But I need your help now." She paused. "Do you remember...when I was here over this past spring break?"

"Sure." Jacob frowned. "You were sick."

Bella shook her head. "Not sick. Look, Jake, this is the only favor I'm ever going to ask you, and I won't ever ask again. Please?"

Jacob buried his head in his hands. "What is it?" he mumbled.

"I need you to skip school on Monday and go with me to Olympia."

He raised his head a little, turning over her request in his head. "Go with you to the state capital? That's it?"

"And sign a paper. It has nothing to do with Charlie, and he won't have anything to get upset about, I promise. This is a favor for me."

Jacob sighed again. "I guess. If you swear Charlie will have nothing to do with it."

"I promise," Bella said, her voice full of relief, and she flashed a hesitant smile. It lit up her face, and Jacob was momentarily in awe of her. She'd always been a cute kid, but now she was absolutely beautiful. He felt his dedication to passing on the werewolf gene falter, but he clung to it. Being with Bella would be...as easy as breathing with her. But it wasn't for the best, in the long run.

"Okay, I guess," he said, letting out a long sigh. "Off to Olympia we go." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't, like, have some petition going to make it illegal to spank kids or something, do you? You're not going to make me sign it and then hold up the state legislature or something, are you?"

Bella sighed and slouched against her door, looking away from him. "It's already illegal to hit kids," she said, her voice tired and quiet. "And, no, I'm not circulating a petition and I have absolutely no intention of going anywhere near the capital building. Okay?"

"Kay." Jacob started the truck again and pulled back onto the road. "Where to, now?"

Bella heaved a deep, weary sigh and closed her eyes. "Charlie's, I guess."

Jacob wanted to say something to lighten the mood, but he could think of nothing. What did you say to someone facing the certain temper of an angry father? "You'll get through it," he said, patting her knee awkwardly.

She shifted away from his hand, pressing closer to the door, and said nothing.

"Look, Bella, he's got a temper, but it can't be that bad. I mean, my dad used to smack me when I was a kid and I screwed up."

She let out a humorless little bark of a laugh. "Yeah," she said, "well, your dad never left permanent scars."

Still trying to joke away the heavy sense of dread in the air, Jacob said, "Well, maybe I never fucked up as bad as you."

There was a long silence as the joke fell flat, and he did not turn his head. He didn't want to see the hurt that he knew would be written all over her face. This wasn't funny. He knew that. But, damn it, what was he supposed to do? He was just a kid, and Charlie was the chief of police. He had to know better than anyone how to treat a child, right?

* * *

The sense of inevitability and dread climbed steadily as the truck neared Charlie's house. Bella felt her breath puffing, quick and shallow, in her throat. She'd made this choice on her own, but that didn't change the fact that she was absolutely terrified of her father. And she was about to see him again, after running away and staying gone for several days. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. This would not be a pleasant evening. She could only hope that Charlie felt some sort of fear of the Cullens. It was possible that her life depended on it.

They turned onto the correct street, and Bella saw the house lights gleaming. They were four houses away...then three...then two...

And then there was no more time left to worry, no more time left to wait. Woodenly she stepped out of the truck, leaving her bags on the floor of the cab. Jacob cut the engine and eyed her; she could feel his gaze, but could not return it. She was too afraid. His car was waiting in the driveway; she didn't ask how he had finagled getting both vehicles to her house, but she was thankful that she'd have her truck for "school" on Monday.

If she could still walk on Monday, that was.

"Thanks, Jake," she whispered, and she reached up to finger the thistle on Esme's necklace, only to remember that she'd left it at the Cullen house and it was no longer there as a small reassurance. It was for the best, though. She was sure Charlie would destroy the trinket, if he found it.

Speak of the devil, she thought, as she heard the front door open. A rectangle of golden light spilled down the cement steps, and in it, Charlie's shadow.

"Meet me at Forks High at eight on Monday," she murmured. "Please, Jake. Don't fail me on this."

Jacob didn't know what was going on, but he stared at Bella's face and knew that he couldn't refuse her in this moment. She was too scared, and he didn't know what might happen if he denied her this one request. "I promise," he said. He hesitated, wanting to wish her a good night or ask if she would be all right, but the words seemed absolutely foolish. Instead he just nodded and hopped out of her truck, giving Charlie a hesitant wave as he walked to his car.

"Thanks for bringing her home," the police chief called, his voice nothing but pleasant. "Sorry she inconvenienced you, Jakey-boy. We'll have a little talk about that before bed."

And Jake knew - not by anything suspicious in the police chief's voice but by the shudder it produced along his spine - that something was not right here. For a moment he thought about forbidding Bella from entering that house, but she was already on the steps, trudging slowly toward her father, her head lowered and her hair obscuring her face. It was too late. Anything he might have done was useless now. Jacob shook his head and started his car, peeling out of Charlie's driveway. He resolutely kept his eyes on the road; he didn't want to see that door close, trapping Bella inside.

* * *

The minute the door closed, Bella closed her eyes. She stood loosely, waiting for the first blow to fall. When it didn't, she glanced cautiously at Charlie.

"Garage," he snapped. " _Now_."

It was the middle of the night, but he was fully dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, complete with boots and belt. Bella obeyed, moving slowly, wondering just what he had in store for her tonight. Whatever it was, she knew it would not be pleasant.

"I just want to say," she said, hearing the tremble in her voice and hating it, "that I snuck away when the Cullens weren't watching. They won't be happy when they find out I came back."

He said nothing as they stepped over the threshold into the cold, bare garage.

"They'll expect me in school on Monday, and if I don't show up, they'll get suspicious."

Charlie pulled the cord on a bare light bulb, which illuminated the cold room. There were boxes against the walls, and the floor was nothing but cracked cement.

"Strip," he said tersely, drumming his fingers impatiently against his jeans. "And hurry it up! I have to work tomorrow."

Bella obeyed with shaking hands, knowing it was worse when she balked. She pulled off her sweatshirt, then her baggy t-shirt. She removed her shoes and socks, and stepped out of her jeans before hesitating.

" _All_  of it, girl!" he snapped, and his hand whipped out suddenly, landing a stinging smack on her clothed backside.

Bella yelped, pulling down her boxer shorts and underwear.

"Leave the bra," Charlie said impatiently. "I don't care about that."

She heard the clink of metal a moment before the handcuff snapped around her wrist. She swallowed, shaking, as he brought her hands behind her back and cuffed them together. Watching over her shoulder, she saw him take a long length of rope and swing one end over an exposed rafter. He took the end and tied it securely to the short chain linking her hands together, and took the other end in his hands.

Bella's eyes widened as she realized what he was going to do. "Dad - no - please!" she begged, but it made no difference. Charlie began pulling slowly on the rope, and she felt her arms rising behind her back. She whimpered as her already-sore shoulder was pulled beyond its range of comfort, and she bent over, trying to give the screaming joint some slack. The minute she did, she heard a loud clink, and then fire lanced across her exposed ass.

She cried out, her body straightening automatically, her feet dancing away from where her father stood, which only put more strain on her arms. He gave another tug at the rope, and when she gasped he laughed.

"Look, naughty Bells," he said, and, keeping pressure on the rope, he moved to her side so she could see what he held in his other hand. It was a belt. A studded belt. "I bought this just for you," he said, chuckling. "It's not really my style, but I thought it might be yours." He moved back to where he'd been before, standing behind her, and pulled her arms up a little farther. Bella's body bent automatically to ease the strain, and the moment it did she heard the jingle of the belt buckle, then felt the studded leather bite deeply into her lower back. Tears welled in her eyes, and she couldn't fight back her cry of pain.

"We're going to play this game a little longer, Bells," Charlie said calmly. He swung the belt again without pulling at her arms, hitting her upper thighs. Bella danced, shaking, unable to move away from the biting fire because of the awkward angle of her arms.

"Please, Charlie!" she said. "I'm sorry! Please, stop!"

"But we just got started," he said calmly, and he pulled her arms up a few more inches. Bella felt her body try to buckle, and fought against the instinct. It didn't matter: he swung the belt anyway, twice, the studs biting into her flesh. The sound of leather against her skin was sickeningly familiar, and she whimpered, feeling blood start to flow.

"Now," Charlie said, "you're going to answer some questions. What did you tell the doctor and his family about our happy little home?" He punctuated the last word with a tug on the rope.

Bella raised herself up onto her toes. Her shoulder joints were screaming at her, and she didn't know how much farther they could be pulled before something broke. She didn't know what would happen, either. Would the joint pop out of the socket? Would there be a dislocation? An actual break of some sort? She trembled. "I didn't say anything!" she wailed, determined to keep the Cullens safe at all costs. If he knew she'd told, he would want revenge. She couldn't risk that.

"I don't believe you," Charlie said calmly, and the belt came down on her ass again.

Bella was sobbing now: she couldn't help it. She bit her lip hard, but it didn't stop her cries. All she managed to do was bite hard enough that blood started to flow. "It's true!" she said through her tears.

Charlie flicked the belt again, not using quite as much force, and it hit the side of her ass, curling around her hip. One stud found the jutting edge of her hipbone, and she screamed at the impact of metal on bone. Her skin immediately split, the warm tickle of blood alerting her to her injury. "That was a good one," Charlie said appreciatively.

"I didn't, I didn't, I didn't," Bella cried, forcing her legs to keep her upright. She didn't even want to think about what would happen if her knees buckled now. "I'm too afraid of you. I didn't say. They just suspect, I didn't say anything."

"You're right about one thing," Charlie said, with a final hard lash of the belt on her red, flaming butt. "I  _am_  pretty scary." He tied his end of the rope to another beam and walked in front of her. He'd tied it so tightly that Bella was on her toes, fighting to keep her arms at a tolerable angle. "I'm going to bed. You're staying right here for the rest of the night. Hopefully that will give you time to think about what you've done. You think about this," he said, holding up the studded belt, now riddled with flecks of her blood, "the next time you want to run away. Got it?"

Bella nodded, twisting and turning, trying to find some way to relieve the fiery pressure in her arms. She wanted to believe there was no way he could leave her like this all night, but she knew in her heart that he certainly could, and he would. He didn't care.

"Oh, and Bells?" he said, turning away and heading for the door, "you better make sure you're in school on Monday, looking bright and chipper. It won't go well for anyone if those Cullens get any more suspicious. Got it?"

Bella didn't answer; she didn't think she could. Her arms were raised so high and so tight behind her that it was making it hard to breathe.

"Night, Bells," Charlie said cheerfully, and he left her, snapping off the light behind him.

Bella was left in darkness and pain, her breaths coming fast and desperate in her throat. She danced a little on her toes, trying to find a position that was at least slightly comfortable, but it was no use. If she bent forward to try to ease the angle of her shoulders, it put pressure on her lungs and her wrists. No matter how she stood, her knees shook violently and felt like they were about to give out on her. Everywhere he'd hit her with the belt burned and throbbed - from her lower back to her upper thighs, and around one hip. She longed for the soothing, icy touch of a Cullen hand - any Cullen; she didn't even care if it was Jasper at this point - against the inflamed skin. And then the blood. The smell of it made her stomach churn unhappily, and she could feel it tickling, running against her legs, her hip, even her lip and chin.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, Bella felt something drop from the rafters overhead and plop onto her shoulder. She froze, pleading that it wasn't -

It moved, crawling slowly along her bare shoulder, up her arm. She trembled knowing exactly what it was. A spider - a big one, from the way it felt. She _hated_  spiders. Other creepy crawlies were gross, but she wasn't afraid of them. But spiders? Eight legs, and all those eyes, and the way they moved...she quivered, trying to keep from panicking, but then it started crawling across her skin again and the way it tickled the fine hairs on her arm was so similar to the way the blood felt, tricking down her hip and legs... Her whirling mind stopped fighting the fear, as suddenly her darkened vision began to swim and she couldn't quite tell which tickle was which anymore - spiders or blood? Blood or spiders?

Another tickling plop, this time in her hair. Bella opened her mouth and screamed.

* * *

Hours later, long after time had ceased to have much meaning in the dark, windowless garage, the door was thrown open. Bella jerked at the sudden noise, and her shoulders screamed at her. She whimpered.

"Good morning to you, too," Charlie said, his voice thick with sleep but still very self-satisfied. She heard the rope being untied, and her arms suddenly dropped. He didn't let her down easy - he just let go of the rope. Her arms were still handcuffed behind her back, so Bella had no way to catch herself. She collapsed, her legs giving out, and she fell forward onto the cold cement floor. She was exhausted and freezing, her whole body trembling with the exertion of maintaining that position for hours on end. The pain and the effort had made her sweat, and the sweat chilled her to the point where her teeth chattered and she shivered violently as she shifted around, unable to keep still.

Now she felt Charlie kneeling over her prone form, and heard the click of the handcuffs being unlocked. He pulled them roughly away from her skin, ripping at tender scabs of dried blood and opening them again. The cuffs had not cut deeply into her wrists, but they had still cut, and it hurt. But, then, everything hurt. Bella felt her arms flop uselessly to her sides. She couldn't even think about lifting them, let alone using them.

Charlie slapped her ass and prodded her legs with the toe of his boot. "Get up," he said. "I have to work today, and I sure as hell can't leave you here. Not with that boy still around, the one who likes to break and enter." He grabbed her under her armpits and hauled her to her feet. Bella didn't know if she could stay up, and she grabbed for a pile of boxes to steady herself. Tears were flowing again, but at least her arms had moved. They screamed at her, throbbing, every muscle twitch an aching nightmare. She whimpered again, closing her eyes, wanting nothing more than to just sink into sleep. She was so tired...

"Up, Isabella!" Charlie snapped irritably. "I won't be late because of you." He jammed a sweatshirt over her head, and the force of his movements made Bella fall. This time she landed on her ass, and she immediately cried out as the scabs stretched and tore and the impact made her entire backside begin to throb and burn again. Charlie hissed an aggrieved sigh and threw a giant pair of sweatpants at her. "Put these on now!" he barked, and Bella struggled to do so, eager for the warmth they could provide.

When she had finally bundled her battered body into the baggy clothes, Charlie hoisted her up by the arm, ignoring her cries of pain, and half-dragged her to his police cruiser. He tossed her in the back like a common criminal, but Bella was perfectly happy to stretch out on the back seat instead of being forced to sit upright next to him. She lay her head on the cold vinyl seat, too exhausted to even care about their destination. It was still dark out, which meant it couldn't be past six or so.

They drove for what felt like forever, and Bella felt her head swim, her consciousness drifting in and out of focus, though she never really fell asleep. When she finally felt the car stop, she opened her eyes but made no effort to get up.

Charlie hoisted her out of the car, and even before Bella saw the little red house she knew exactly where she was by the smell: slightly salty air, and wet leaves, and woodsmoke. She was on the reservation - at Billy's house.

"Get up there," he ordered, hauling her up the steps and into the little house. "Since I can't leave you alone, Billy's agreed to babysit. You mind yourself here, and keep your mouth shut. I'll be back at the end of my shift, and if I hear that you've been trying to make this out to be something other than a naughty child receiving her just punishment, there'll be hell to pay. Got it?"

Bella didn't respond. There was no point, either way. Charlie released her arm, and she collapsed unceremoniously on the tired brown carpet of the Black living room. Though she didn't weigh much, the whole house trembled when she fell. Charlie sighed with impatience and turned on his heel, leaving the house.

At the sound of his cruiser turning back onto the road, Bella allowed her head to sink to the floor. She breathed in the dusty, unclean smell of the old carpet, too tired and in too much pain to even think about moving. At least she was safe, for the time being. Billy was her father's friend, but he wasn't like Charlie. He wouldn't hurt her. She sighed a little and closed her eyes.

She didn't know how long she'd lain like that, crumpled in an uncomfortable position but unwilling to try to move, but suddenly she heard the slap of bare feet against laminate flooring. Jacob rounded the corner from the kitchen and stopped short: she could see his brown feet blurrily through the carpet pile. He hissed, and she closed her eyes again.

"Bella," he said quietly, and suddenly his hands were on her. They were hot - abnormally so, she thought. But then again, she  _had_  been living with the abnormally cold Cullens. She flinched away from his touch, forcing her body to move. Those hot hands were too much to handle right now. No matter how much she understood that Jacob meant no real harm, she did not want him touching her. She scuttled into a corner, wedging herself against the side of the old tweedy couch where it met the wall. The side of the couch created a low barrier between her and the rest of the room, and she huddled there, keeping her eyes above it, watching Jake warily.

"Chill, girl," Jacob said, staring at her. "I'm not going to hurt you." His face was full of shock, and he looked so unsure. For a moment Bella felt sorry for bothering him, but she couldn't make herself act normal. Not after the kind of night she'd just had. She pulled her head back, curling in on herself, and huddled into her corner, closing her eyes against the sight of Jacob standing in his living room in a pair of jean shorts and nothing else, looking at her with such confusion. She was too tired to deal with him right now.

"Bella? You okay?"

She ignored him.

"Bella, will you talk to me?"

He was closer now, and she pressed back into her corner, though there was nowhere for her to go. She fought back the panic that threatened to overwhelm her; she didn't know if her body could withstand another attack of fear, and she had no wish to test it out.

Jacob withdrew then, and she let out a long sigh - whether it was relief or resignation, she didn't know. He reappeared several minutes later, but didn't say anything. He draped a crocheted throw blanket over her huddled form, and set a tray next to her. On it sat a glass of orange juice and a bottle of Tylenol.  _Tylenol_. The weakest pain medication on the market. Bella wanted to roll her eyes, but couldn't dredge up the energy. Tylenol couldn't even handle a normal headache. There was no way it could do anything for this sort of pain. She huddled into herself further, laid her head on her knees, and tried to sleep.

* * *

Edward paced impatiently back and forth between two aromatic cedar trees, pushing off each trunk with a careless, twisting motion as he turned. It was almost like the turn at the end of a pool, swimming laps. He idly cursed the coming day as it lightened the forest around him, turning the misty, dripping tree trunks into dark skeletons against the dim wash of pre-dawn. They'd been gone far longer than he was comfortable leaving Bella, even if Jasper and Alice were watching her. He growled low in his throat, anxious to get back to her. He hoped she was sleeping, and that her dreams had calmed. He hadn't had the chance to watch her sleep at all that night, and he didn't like the enforced separation. Blood sloshed almost uncomfortably in his stomach as he turned again, and he noted resignedly that he'd already paced a shallow groove into the duff of the forest floor.

The sudden hint of his family's thoughts washed over him, and Edward heaved a sigh of relief as Rosalie separated herself from Esme, Carlisle, and Emmett, promising to see them back at the house. They still needed to have their talk, and as much as Edward ached to see Bella's sleeping form, safe and comfortable in her room in the Cullen house, he and Rose needed to have this talk. Because no matter what they had already promised Carlisle, they couldn't just sit by and watch Bella live in fear of the telephone or doorbell. Even though Carlisle had promised it would only be a few more days before they had an answer from the state, a few more days just wasn't good enough. Not with that terrifying look of pain in Bella's big brown eyes.

Rose appeared suddenly out of the mist, her face lovely and stoic, as usual. Edward nodded to her, and she nodded back, just the tiniest inclination of her head.

"Does Emmett suspect?" Edward asked.

"Suspect what?" Rosalie shrugged. "We haven't done anything yet. He knows I'm upset. So is he. But his mouth is bigger than Alice's, and I'd rather not have to worry about him wrecking any plans we might make, no matter how much I love him."

Edward agreed. He and Rose had never been the closest siblings, though they had been the first. But he had always appreciated how realistic she was about the big oaf she fell in love with. Emmett had many admirable traits, but subtlety was definitely not one of them.

"So...?" Rose raised her eyebrow. "What's the plan?"

Edward leaned back against one of the cedar trees, watching the forest lighten further. There would be no sunrise, as there so often wasn't in this cloudy, rainy place, but daylight - what daylight there was in Forks - would be upon them soon. "I was thinking Esme's island," he said. "It'd be easy enough to charter a boat, and once we're in international waters she'd be free."

Rosalie nodded thoughtfully. "The island  _is_  technically owned by a company Carlisle set up for Esme in Switzerland. That Swiss respect for privacy means it's virtually impossible to trace the island back to us." She tapped one perfectly manicured fingernail against her lips thoughtfully. "Still, you know nobody resides there for any length of time. You'll have to cart in supplies from the mainland every once in a while to keep Bella fed, and the locals might get suspicious."

"True," Edward said with a sigh. "And the island just isn't equipped to handle the whole family. Not for any appreciable length of time."

"What about Switzerland itself?" Rose suggested. "I know we don't have a residence there, but it wouldn't be difficult to set one up. And even if she was found, the Swiss won't extradite."

"They will if she's still a minor." Edward kicked his heel back against the tree several times, causing strips of bark and chips of wood to fly in different directions.

"Next idea?" Rosalie began pacing now, following Edward's line in the forest floor. "We  _do_  agree that she needs to get away from here, right?"

"Utterly," Edward sighed. "We need to get her far enough away from that demon of a police chief that he stops harassing her. That's the most important part. Then we can talk about prosecuting his ass."

"Or just tearing it apart," Rose muttered.

Edward nodded. The monster in him liked Rose's plan better, but he understood what Carlisle had been saying earlier about protecting their secret, and protecting the family. If they couldn't kill Charlie, then they couldn't kill Charlie. But one way or another, he was going to pay for what he'd done to his daughter. Edward vowed that he'd see to that.

"What about Alaska?" he said abruptly.

"Alaska?" Rose mulled it over. It would be remote - their lodge in Alaska was in the middle of nowhere. That would make it difficult for Charlie or any other law enforcement officials to get there, though the snowy storms meant virtually nothing to vampires. They had generators for electricity and the weather was foul enough that Edward could likely make trips to town to get whatever Bella needed. The Denali coven would be nearby, too, to lend friendship and aid. All in all, it seemed like a good plan. "Not a bad idea," she said finally.

"The lodge is big enough for the whole family, too," Edward said, adding to what he had heard in Rosalie's thoughts. "I know it's not safe for everyone to up and leave right now; Carlisle made that perfectly clear. But if one or two of us leaves with Bella..."

"...then we can all visit with her while she's up there, and when she turns eighteen and is legally safe from her father, we can all choose our next destination as a family again," Rosalie finished. She sighed. "It's not ideal." She knew Edward would be adamant about staying with Bella, which meant separating her from the Cullen women. Esme would be heartbroken to have her newest, most fragile child pulled away so suddenly, and Rose admitted that she wasn't too keen on the idea of leaving Bella, either. But the fewer Cullens that disappeared, the better. And, she admitted, she did not look forward to making that choice between running with Bella or staying with Emmett. Edward would not be able to care for her on his own. Bella needed more than an attentive suitor to pull through the aftermath of her father's cruelty. Rose knew she'd feel a little better if she was sure the Denali clan was willing and able to help. She made the decision to call them when she returned to the house.

"That's a good idea," Edward said, and Rose knew he was courteously overlooking her thoughts about him being inadequate care for Bella. "But I'd phrase it to Carmen as a hypothetical at first. She can be uncomfortable with decisions."

"Then why not go straight to Eleazar?"

"He'll just jump right on the phone and call Carlisle. Best to get Carmen on your side first."

Fair enough, Rose thought. "When?"

Edward sighed, tugging a hand through his damp hair. "Tonight," he said finally. "I'll find something in Carlisle's office to make her sleep deeply. Hopefully she won't wake until we're too far out on the road to turn back."

Rosalie glanced back in the direction of the house, though they were miles away and there was no chance any of their family could hear them. "This is a big deal, Edward," she said finally. "No one in this family has defied Carlisle about something this big before. And I may not be able to see the future like Alice or read emotions like Jasper, but I can tell you already that Bella will not be pleased to leave Esme. Are you prepared for the consequences?"

Edward swallowed, but he nodded, resolute. "This isn't about what I want," he said. "It's about what's best for her. That's all that matters right now."

And as they headed back toward the house, he could only hope that his last words to his sister had been true.

As they jumped the stream behind the house and headed through the back yard, Edward heard the thoughts of his family bleed into his mind. Worry. Everyone was jumbled - he couldn't get a clear read on just what was wrong, but something had sent everyone in the house into a state of near panic. He couldn't feel the panic himself, but he knew by the clipped, jumbled, unclear thoughts that something was very, very wrong. And only one thing could make his family as upset as they were.

Something had happened to Bella.

He left Rosalie on the back steps, switching to his highest speed as he rushed through the door and up the stairs, into Bella's room.

It was empty.

Rage hit him in a heavy jolt, like lightning, instantly followed by an equally heavy dose of fear. He breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent. It was as sweet as ever, heady and delicate, but it was clear that she had not been in this room for several hours. He glanced at the window, peered wildly around. Her things were gone - her schoolbag and her clothes. On her desk sat the sleek black cell phone Carlisle had given her, and the jewelery case that held Esme's necklace. Next to the lamp on her nightstand lay the key to her new Volvo.

There was no sign of struggle, and though Edward swore he could smell her fear lingering in the room, he could not smell any blood. There also was no scent of any intruder, whether vampire, wolf, or human. She had not, then, been taken, and clearly no one in the house would have kicked her out. Which left only one option.

She had run away.

Edward grasped the back of the wooden desk chair in his hands and dove ruthlessly into Alice's mind first. He couldn't direct her thoughts, but they were of Bella, anyway...and of...Jasper.

His hands closed harder around the wooden chair back, and it snapped like a pencil. In an instant he was downstairs and he had Jasper pinned against a wall, one forearm restraining his chest, the other hand wrapped around his throat. "What did you do to her?" he demanded, and the voice that came out of him didn't sound like his anymore. It was high and wild with rage, with a dangerous, deadly anger. The monster in him stretched and uncurled, flowing through his veins, urging him to fight - to main, to kill. Edward growled loudly, as much at the monster within as at Jasper.

"Edward, don't!" Alice shrieked, clawing at his arm, but he held steady. Jasper was older and probably stronger, not to mention the more experienced warrior. But none of that made any difference at the moment, as Edward's fury acted like a human adrenalin rush and gave him the upper hand.

 _Edward_ , Jasper thought at him, and his mind-voice was calm and collected. It started Edward for a moment, but not enough to let him go.  _Do you think so little of me that you believe I would harm your mate? You are my brother. Now let go, please, and we will talk. You're upsetting Alice and Esme._

"To hell with Alice and Esme!" Edward shouted, pressing Jasper further into the wall. The drywall cracked alarmingly under the pressure, but Jasper remained still, refusing to fight. "Whatever you did, Alice let you do it!" Edward gave a final squeeze before dropping Jasper and whirling on Esme, locked protectively in Carlisle's arms. "And you! You promised me she would be all right!" he bellowed. The monster inside whispered alluringly, beckoning him to kill, but he couldn't raise a hand against her, no matter how furious he was. "You said we had to trust our family, and look what happened!"

"Edward, please," Esme said, her face contorted with pain.

"Please, son - " Carlisle tried to break in, but Edward cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it," he said, forcing the monster back down but unable to fight off the anger. Whatever Jasper might be doing to try to assist wasn't working. The rage boiled through his body, along with a deep sense of betrayal. "I am no son - "

"Stop!" Alice begged, grabbing Edward's arm. She hung on it desperately. "Don't say something you'll regret later. And you  _will_  regret it, I can see it. Please, Edward!"

Rosalie and Emmett came up and took Edward by the shoulders, pulling him firmly away from the rest of the family. "Go," Rose said, her voice steel. "Go run to Alberta, or push down an acre of trees, or swim the Pacific. Just do something to get rid of that anger. Come back when you're thinking more clearly, and we'll come up with a plan."

Emmett opened the front door with one hand, and they guided him through it. "Go, Edward. Let it out," he said sympathetically. "But come back soon, got it? I don't want to wait too long to get my baby sister back, hear?"

Back. Bella, back. Those words pierced the rage and allowed some of it to flow out of him, though not all. It was enough, though, and Edward shook his head roughly as he heard the door close behind him, leaving him alone in the dingy morning light. Bella, back. Back with him, back where she belonged. He shook his head again, and it cleared a little more. As the rage died a little, the ache of her loss grew exponentially. He didn't know what Emmett meant by 'soon,' but Edward took off running for her house, not bothering with his car. He was going to find her and bring her back, even if it meant dragging her kicking and screaming. The anger surged again, this time directed at his foolish little human, who clearly had not an ounce of self-perservation instinct in her entire cute little self. What was she thinking, leaving like that? Never mind what Jasper and Alice were thinking, letting her. What did she think was going to happen when she got back to her father? That he would welcome her with open arms? Edward snorted. She was a smart girl. She couldn't possibly be as foolish as that, could she?

But then, if she knew what was obviously waiting for her at home, why, oh why, did she leave the safe haven of the Cullen household?

Unbidden, a memory rose in his mind as he ran through the forest, paralleling the road. He and Bella were in Carlisle's office, talking. Her voice was small and hesitant - still so frightened and unsure.

_"You want to make me happy, Edward?"_

_"More than anything."_

_She slid out of the suede chair, dropping to her knees against him. Her arms settled around his shoulders, and he found his own hands spanning her waist, holding her close. She didn't break eye contact. "Promise me something."_

_"Anything."_

_"You'll keep yourself and your family safe." She shook her head, a seam of bright fear running through the depths of her dark eyes. "Don't let Charlie hurt you - any of you, in any way. You're all too good for that. I know you're not normal. I know you have a secret, and I don't care. It doesn't change the fact that you're good people - wonderful people. Please._ Please _promise me."_

Another memory, and this time she was talking to Carlisle and Esme, though the entire family was present.

_"I'm superfluous with Charlie, too," Bella murmured, speaking the words into a fold of her blanket, where she'd buried her head. "But that's nothing new, you know? And Renee deserves to be with Phil. She deserves to be happy."_

Edward slowed and then came to a stop. He heard traffic hissing along the road maybe half a mile from him, but he ignored it, searching in his flawless vampire memory for one more. This time it wasn't of Bella, but of Esme. She was talking about Bella, but still.

_"That girl doesn't know how to make decisions for herself, I'll bet you anything. For other people, certainly. But for herself?" Esme shook her head again._

Was it really that crushingly simple? Part of Edward didn't want to believe it, but another part of him insisted that all the evidence added up. Something must have happened to spark the decision, and if Jasper or Alice had anything to do with that, he swore, he'd find some horrendous way to get even. But whatever had happened, it looked suspiciously like Bella had chosen to leave the Cullens of her own free will...to keep them safe. She was sacrificing herself to Charlie to stop him from harming them. And while Edward understood that she didn't know the full extent of their secret yet, the idea of his fragile little lamb walking willingly to the slaughter to save a coven of vampires was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. He started running again, vowing to himself that when he found her, he was going to shake some sense into her. He was going to haul her away from her father's house for good this time, and he was going to tell her the full truth about himself and his family, no matter what she said. Maybe then she'd finally understand that there was absolutely no need to sacrifice herself for their safety.

Edward burst out of the woods behind her house and ran to the back door, not caring whether the police chief was home or not. He yanked the door open with ease, breaking the deadbolt and splintering the doorjamb. Without a thought for the mangled entrance, he sped through the house. Rosalie was right - it stank like alcohol, and Charlie's own unappealing human scent. Edward shook his head. How such a terror of a man could produce something as precious as Bella was beyond him. He ran to her room, but it was clear from her fading scent that she had not returned since the night he took her from this hellhole. He growled deep in his chest, a threatening rumble of a sound, as he checked Charlie's bedroom and the bathroom. There was no scent of Bella in either place. He ran downstairs and prowled the living room and kitchen. The foyer had a very faint trace of fresh Bella scent. She _had_  been in the house, then. But where had she gone? Edward sniffed at the basement door, but caught no whiff of her. Infuriated, he was about to give up on the inside of the house and plunge out the front door when another door caught his eye. Scowling, he walked over and yanked it open.

The scent of Bella's blood hit him like a slap in the face, and Edward almost fell to his knees. Cold air hovered around him, and he glanced around.

Garage.

She'd bled at some point in the past few hours, and she'd been here, in the fucking garage.

The growl increased in both volume and intensity as Edward perused every inch of the cold cement-floored room. Mostly there were just some storage boxes against the walls and some automotive parts heaped carelessly in a corner. But next to a stack of boxes, Edward found a pair of handcuffs crusted with Bella's blood. The growl grew even louder, and Edward picked them up with shaking fingers. Bella had been held here, her hands cuffed together so tightly that they'd drawn blood.

A rope was tied to the cuffs, and the tail end of it still hung over a rafter beam. Edward followed the line of rope with his eyes, dropping the cuffs, and found the spot where she must have been forced to stand. Dribbles of dried blood stained the concrete floor in a distinct flecked pattern. Edward felt his knees shaking as he looked around for any more evidence of Bella's pain. He inhaled, his acute sense of smell picking up the individual scents of motor oil, dust, wood, and blood. Using his nose, he followed the smell of blood to a corner, where an object looked like it had been lazily tossed, almost as an afterthought. The bitter rage grew again, and so did his growl, as Edward picked it up. Light glinted off pyramid-shaped studs on a black leather belt, stained with Bella's blood.

Edward dropped the belt, reeling. He forced himself out of the garage, out of Bella's house, and dropped onto the wet stairs at the front door, his lungs heaving, trying to rid himself of the smell of her sweet blood. It was a scent he was sure would haunt him for the rest of eternity.

Slowly pulling himself together, Edward rose and looked around the front yard. Charlie's cruiser was missing, but Bella's truck sat on the side of the road, almost mocking him. He ran to it and yanked the door open, his nose accosted by the stench of werewolf. This didn't surprise him too much; Bella had mentioned something about spending time on the reservation, and Charlie had friends there. The question was, did they know about Charlie? Were they helping him?

Edward tore his cell phone from his pocket, noticing that Bella's bags were still in the truck. He shouldered them just as Rosalie answered.

"Get over to Bella's house," he said, biting out the words. "Now. And tell Carlisle he has all the evidence he could ever want."

"Is she there?" Rose demanded. "Damn it, Edward, did you find her?"

"No," Edward said, gazing down the road toward the reservation. "But I have a sinking suspicion of where she might be."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Alice drifted back and forth across the driveway in the dripping rain. She could feel the weight of Jasper's protective eyes as she paced, her mind half in the present, half in the future as she sought any wisp of Bella's presence. Every time she tried to reach her, all she found was murky darkness. It felt slightly different than other times she'd tried to feel Bella's presence, which made no sense at all. But, then, nothing about Bella made any sense. She was a shy, quiet, sweet girl who nonetheless had the courage to return to her father in order to keep other people safe. And while Alice had no idea who Bella had spoken about the night before, one thing was certain - her actions were partially motivated by a desire to keep the Cullens safe. Which was utterly ridiculous, if you thought about it. One vulnerable little girl was putting herself in danger to keep an entire coven of vampires safe. It was ludicrous, though Alice understood that Bella didn't know the whole story. So many times over the past few days she'd wanted to sit down and explain it to Bella, and now she wished she had. While she doubted it would have stopped Bella from leaving, it was possible the revelation might have helped her trust the Cullens a little more.

Jasper chuckled from where he leaned against the garage. "I know you," he said. "I know what you're thinking."

"Oh?" Alice forced a smile at her husband, though she didn't feel very much like smiling at the moment. Everyone in the family was furious at her for letting Bella leave, and she hated feeling like the bad guy when all she'd done was what Bella asked.

"You're thinking that if we told Bella the whole truth about us, maybe she would have stayed."

Alice sighed. "Or at least let us help her."

Jasper held out his hand, beckoning, and Alice slid into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder and cuddled there morosely.

"I hate how angry everyone is," she mumbled. "It must be hard on you."

"It's better outside," Jasper replied, dropping a kiss on her wet hair. "Don't fret, darlin' girl," he added, infusing his voice with a little of the old Southern drawl he'd dropped for appearances' sake. "We did what your friend asked us to do. Even though Rose and Edward may not like it, we  _did_  help her. She has something she has to do, and it's not fair for us to try to stop her."

"I can't help feeling like there's more we could be doing, though," Alice said with a little sigh.

"Maybe there is," Jasper said with a shrug. "When you think of something, let me know."

Alice bit her lip, and heard another laugh from her husband. "What?"

"You really  _have_  started picking up habits from her, haven't you?"

"Well, I like her!" Alice wailed. "And she's out there now, probably on the reservation, where we can't get to her without breaking the treaty!"

"Carlisle and Esme are both trying to get in touch with the wolves as we speak."

"Yes, but - "

"And Charlie's at work right now, Emmett reported. As long as he's here and she's there, she's probably all right."

"We don't know that," Alice argued.

"Darlin', look at it from a tactical standpoint," Jasper said, his military training coming out as he spoke. "Charlie's the enemy. Emmett and Rosalie are keeping an eye on him while he's at work. The wolves are not our friends, but in this instance they might just be our unwitting allies. We can't get to her on the reservation, but we know that while Bella's there, she's free to work on whatever she needs to do."

"How do we know that?" Alice demanded. "How do we know she's not locked up in a closet somewhere or something?"

"Because this thing between Bella and Charlie is personal. The Quileute are a close-knit community. They believe strongly that what goes on in a family is that family's business. No matter how close Bella and her father are with friends on the reservation, they are not family. And that means that the tribe members will not meddle in affairs between father and daughter. She may be stuck there, but she's not being hurt."

Alice grumbled a little under her breath and was about to put forth another argument when a vision struck her. Flashes of her and Jasper doing something...something to help Bella...

A slow smile spread across her face, and Alice blinked the vision away. "Jasper?" she said.

He sighed, but grinned good-naturedly at her. "Yes, love? What hijinks are we up to now?"

"Well, I was just thinking," Alice said. "You said that it's best if we keep Bella and Charlie apart, right?"

"Right."

"And while she's on the reservation, we can't get to her but she's probably safe, right?"

"Right."

"And we want to give her time to do what she needs to do before Edward and Rose kidnap her and put her on lockdown in this house, right?"

"Right." With every repetition of the word, Jasper's voice became more wary. The last one was almost a question, and Alice bit back a giggle at his nervousness. It was adorable, and she had to admit that it was sort of - kind of - maybe - a little bit deserved. She  _had_  come up with more than a few harebrained schemes before.

"Well, what if something were to...happen...in Forks near the end of Charlie's shift this evening?"

"What sort of thing?"

"Like...something that needed police attention. Something big enough that they would want the chief there?"

A slow smile spread across Jasper's mouth. "Beautiful," he said. "Brilliant. And I know just what to do, too."

* * *

Bella woke from a deep, dreamless sleep to a hot hand on her shoulder, shaking her. She raised her arms, pushing at a hard body, shoving futilely, until her brain woke up enough to realize who had her. "Jake?" she said hesitantly, blinking in the dim morning light. She looked around the familiar living room. Billy was still nowhere to be seen. Jake straightened and moved away from her, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He was now dressed for school, in long jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved t-shirt.

"Is it still morning?" Bella asked, her brow furrowed. That certainly looked like morning light coming through the front window, but she could have sworn that she'd slept longer than that. Her bladder was uncomfortably full, and her joints ached from sitting in the same position for a long time. The tray with the orange juice and Tylenol was gone, but the throw blanket was still tucked around her.

"It's morning  _again_ , actually," Jacob said, eying her carefully. "Monday, in fact."

Bella frowned. "Did I...?"

"Slept all day and night, from the looks of it," Jacob said. "I checked on you a few times, but you were out like a light. I tried to wake you up so you could move to the couch, but you cried when I touched you." He sounded insanely uncomfortable, and Bella sighed.

"I don't even remember," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

"Well, you were pretty out of it."

"I guess." She moved slowly, cautiously, trying to ease herself out of the little ball she'd spent the last day curled into. Her joints were on fire, and the moment she started moving every inch of her body protested. She bit back a whimper and forced herself slowly to her knees, then climbed to her feet. "Charlie?"

"He called last night and said someone broke into the bank on High Street, and he'd be there all night trying to figure out what happened. Asked if we minded you staying here. Billy told him you were sleeping anyway, so not to worry."

Bella let out a sigh of relief for the bullet she'd dodged. There was no telling what Charlie would do when next he got his hands on her, and she didn't know if her body could stand another beating. Hell, she wasn't even sure she could walk.

"So...we still on for today?" Jacob asked, his voice still hesitant.

"Yes." No matter what had transpired between their talk Saturday night and now, Bella was adamant about that. She shook her head a little, which did nothing to ease the pounding ache. "Let me wash up first, and then we can go. Do I still have some clothes here?"

"Yep," Jacob said, motioning to a brown paper grocery bag, where the sleeve of a shirt was visible. "You know we always keep spares for you here, for when you inevitably fall in the mud or whatever."

"Right." Bella wanted to roll her eyes as the old, teasing note of familiarity showed itself in Jacob's voice, but she was too tired and in too much pain to bother. She forced herself into the bathroom, where she forced her body out of the giant pair of sweats and into some old jeans. She didn't bother attempting to shower, not wanting to take the time. She also knew without a doubt that water on the open wounds left from that studded belt would hurt, and she didn't want to face that until she had to. She finished dressing, washed her hands and face, and borrowed Jacob's comb to drag through her hair. Both her shoulders ached now, and she didn't have full range of motion in either limb, but she managed as best she could. She eyed the two toothbrushes in their holders, but opted to brush her teeth with some toothpaste on her finger. If it had been Edward's toothbrush, she wouldn't have minded. But there were some things she just did not feel comfortable sharing with Jake, regardless of the circumstances.

Thankfully there was an old pair of Keds at the bottom of the clothing bag, and Bella put them on, along with a pair of socks. There was a hole at her right heel, but no one would notice with her shoes on. She glanced at herself in the mirror and sighed. The bruise on her cheekbone was faded, and Charlie had inflicted nothing else that could be seen. She just looked tired, and sad - incredibly sad. Shaking her head a little, she limped out of the bathroom and joined Jacob in the hall.

"Breakfast?"

Bella shook her head. "I just want to get on the road before anything happens," she said, taking a deep, shaky breath. "We need to stop by my house and get my bookbag."

"We can do that," Jake said. He tossed her his jacket, claiming he wasn't cold, and led the way to his car.

On the short drive from Billy's house to Charlie's, Bella had the time to reflect. She started at her toes and worked her way up, moving things slowly, assessing how badly she might be hurt. For one fleeting second she wished for Carlisle, but that wish was in vain, she told herself. There were things she needed to do, and if she was going to keep the Cullens safe, she couldn't go running to the doctor every time Charlie hurt her. That just wasn't going to work. She set her jaw and continued. Her feet were sore from standing all night the night before, and so were her knees. Everything from her upper thighs to her lower back burned and stung with pain. Every tiny bump and rattle of Jacob's old car was infinitely painful, and Bella only hoped the scabs were sufficiently hardened that they wouldn't break open again. Bleeding through her jeans or shirt would not be good. Her chest felt all right, but the entire length of her arms ached, from her cut wrists to her damaged shoulders. Her neck muscles were tight and unhappy, and her head pounded with pain. Still, she told herself, it could have been worse. She was capable of walking, and Charlie hadn't locked her up. She was free to do what she had to do, and she was more thankful for that than she could imagine.

They slowed when they turned onto the correct street, and Bella kept a sharp eye out for lights on in the house or the cruiser in the driveway, but it was clear that Charlie was still at work. She heaved a relieved sigh as Jacob pulled up next to her truck, the sound of crunching gravel loud in her ears.

"So..." he asked, tapping the steering wheel, "are we taking your car, or mine?"

Bella hadn't thought about it. She bit her lip a little, then glanced at him. "Yours might be better," she said slowly, "but I can pay you for the gas."

"Sounds good," Jake said, shrugging. "I like driving mine better, anyway. You do know where we're going, right?"

"I've had the address memorized for a while," Bella said. "One question - how good are you at faking signatures?"

"I can do my dad's, no problem." Jacob sounded proud.

"And others?"

"Depends," Jake said. "Let's see it."

Bella slowly pulled herself out of the car, using the top of it to help stand. It wasn't far to her truck, but it was still painful each time she took a step. Her knees didn't want to support her weight, and her feet ached. She leaned on the rusted red vehicle when she reached it, pulling the door open.

Her bags were gone.

Bella blinked and started to panic, before she caught sight of a piece of paper on the dashboard. Frowning, she caught it.

 _Bella, sweetie_ , it read,  _I hope you're all right. Jasper says to let you do whatever it is you need to do, but it's so hard! Everyone wants you back with us. So, please, just be careful? And come home to us, your family, as soon as you can. Please? Oh, I found the invoice with Carlisle and Esme's signatures in your bag. I can't read your future, so I don't know why you need it, but it's under the driver's seat. The rest of your things are at our house, waiting for you. Please hurry, Bella, and take care of yourself in the meantime. Love, your sister Alice._

Bella felt a pang of sadness as she read Alice's note. She hadn't planned to ever go back to them - hadn't thought they'd want her, after she left like she had. And it still wasn't safe for them to be around her. Regardless of the fact that Charlie wasn't safe, they also had a secret they needed to protect. That was more important than anything else. She smiled wistfully at Alice's note, fished the paperwork out from under her seat, and returned to Jake.

"Anything wrong?" he asked as she more or less collapsed into her seat.

"No," she said, with a little sigh. "We need to stop at a library, too, but I don't want to do it here. Think we can find one in Olympia?"

"I'm sure we can." He flashed her a crooked smile and turned around, and Bella heaved a sigh of relief as they headed south, out of Forks, toward the state capital.

* * *

Rose was seeing red. Literally - she stared at the studded leather belt in Carlisle's hand, which he was about to drop into a plastic bag and tag for evidence. Drops of blood flecked it, and her nose told her in no uncertain terms that it was Bella's blood. She growled low in her throat, then turned and walked out of the garage, toward Edward. He stood in the ubiquitous fall drizzle, water dripping from his hair, half leaning on Bella's truck. It was early morning, and neither Bella nor Charlie had returned to the house all night.

"All right," Carlisle said after stowing his camera back in its protective case. He herded the entire family out of the garage and pulled the vertical door down. The snap of the lock engaging was a very final sound. "Here's what we'll do. I want all students in school today."

"No." The word jumped from every throat but Jasper's, and Carlisle looked like he had expected it.

"This isn't up for negotiation," he said firmly. "The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. I'm not on duty today, so I will watch this house from the woods. If I see Bella at all, I will bring her home. Esme will wait at the house in case Bella calls or comes by on her own." He passed the camera case to his wife. "Email these photos, along with the ones I took of her injuries, to CPS. Call them, and keep calling until you get a person on the line instead of the automated system. We can't afford to let this continue any longer."

"Like we did yesterday?" Rosalie snapped. She was not very pleased with anyone in her family right now, with the exception of Emmett. Jasper and Alice let Bella return to the bastard who was hurting her. Carlisle's plan of sitting tight had allowed the incident to happen. Esme hadn't spoken up against him, and now Edward was bouncing back and forth between fury and despair so quickly that it was impossible for  _anyone_  to put up with him, let alone Jasper. Rose understood his position, to a certain extent, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

Emmett slid his arms around her, but his touch did not calm her. She turned her head and kissed his shoulder, thanking him for his thoughtfulness without words, but her attention was still on Carlisle. They had lain low all day on Sunday, on Carlisle's orders, for fear that Charlie would return to his house and find them snooping. Now, early on Monday morning, Rosalie was itching to do something...something that did not include going to school.

"I can't apologize enough for the fact that Bella is gone," Carlisle said slowly, his eyes boring into his daughter's. "But that doesn't alter the fact that it was her decision to go. If I had been home, I would have tried to talk her out of it, but in the end I would have done just what Jasper and Alice did. I would have let her make the choice."

"Well,  _I_  wouldn't have," Rose snapped.

"Rose, daughter," Carlisle said, his voice gentle but adamant, "listen to yourself. When it was you in her position, beaten and hurt, I made the choice for you. I took the choice from you, and I decided that you were better off with us, as part of this family."

Emmett's arms tightened around her, and Rose glared at her father.

"You've blamed me for making that decision ever since you were changed, and I know that. I know now that if I had given you the choice, you would have chosen differently." He did not look away. "Now you would take that choice away from Bella? You would have me do the same as I did for you, knowing what I know now?"

A long, heavy silence quivered between the two, before Rosalie finally dropped her eyes. "No," she muttered, though she was not happy about it. "It needs to be Bella's choice."

"Bullshit," Edward snapped. "It's not the same thing at all!"

"How not?" Jasper asked quietly. "Rose's choice was between life and death. How is Bella's any less so?"

"She's brainwashed! Carlisle himself said so!"

"Then we do what we can to help her," Jasper said in that same calm voice, "but in the end the choice needs to be hers."

"She doesn't know how to make decisions for herself - Esme said as much when she first met her!"

"You'll teach her," Alice said suddenly, with a strange, unfocused smile. "Edward, where did you put her things?"

He frowned. "The ones from her truck? Back in her room."

"I need to run home before school, then," Alice said, and she squeezed Jasper's hand before darting off into the woods.

"We all do," Carlisle added. "Go change your clothes and get your cars. I promise to call if anything happens."

"Me, too," Esme said. Her eyes were worried, and even though it was impossible for vampires, Carlisle swore he saw lines on her face that had not been there earlier. She was missing her newest child deeply, and hurting for her. He wished there was something he could do to ease her pain, but unfortunately only Bella's return would do that.

"I'll go with you," Carlisle said, "and bring my car back to hide down the street. That way, if she comes, I'll have a way to get her out of here."

* * *

"Turn right up here."

Bella sat in the passenger's seat of Jacob's car, several papers clenched tightly in her hands. She hoped she wasn't sweating too much on them, but her palms felt hot and damp. She didn't know what was going to happen from here on out - it all depended on other people now.

"Mind telling me where we're going, since we're almost there?" Jacob asked. They'd already been to the library, where Bella copied several forms from a thick reference book and then filled them out with a borrowed pen. Now they were nearing their first real stop in Olympia: family court.

Family court wasn't held in the courthouse, but in a smaller, nondescript building that looked like it could be anything - a small doctor's office or postal center, maybe. Jacob pulled into the parking lot, and Bella braced herself, both for the telling and what would come after. It was natural that Jacob would want to know just what he was helping her do, and she understood that. But telling this story for the first time wouldn't be easy, regardless.

She swallowed. Her whole body ached from sitting in the car for several hours, and yet she didn't want to move. Moving would relieve some of the aches in her joints, but it would hurt her muscles even more. Moving also meant the end of waiting and the beginning of action. So she lingered in the car, deciding to answer Jacob's questions first and put off the even harder task just a little longer.

"It started last summer," she whispered, twisting her hands in her lap. She placed her paperwork carefully on the dusty dashboard so she wouldn't crease it. "Charlie had a week-long training in Seattle."

"Yeah, I remember that," Jacob said, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning back, reclining his seat a little bit. "You went with him and got to spend a week in Seattle - lucky."

Bella snorted. "Not so lucky, as it turned out."

"No?"

She swallowed. "We shared a three-bedroom hotel suite with other officers from around the state. Friends of Charlie's. I was the only girl."

"What, was there too much man-talk for you?" Jacob joked.

"Jake, please," she whispered. "This is really hard for me."

"Okay, okay," he muttered, holding up his hands in surrender.

"I wasn't allowed to leave the hotel suite during the day when everyone else was at training," Bella said, her voice falling even softer than before. She swallowed thickly, feeling the telltale ache of tears in her throat. She swallowed again, trying to force them back. It would do no good to cry now, she tried to tell herself. What was done, was done. Tears couldn't change it. "One day, an officer from Tacoma came back to the suite in the middle of the day." She stared out the windshield at the building in front of her, wishing desperately that she could find again that place of blessed numbness she'd stumbled upon when talking to the Cullens about Charlie. It would make this so much easier. But the pain radiated through her body unabated, and the numbness did not come to save her this time. She closed her eyes, but that didn't help either. She kept seeing the leering face of her attacker laughing at her in her mind's eye, his broad, unpleasant face, creased and sunburned.

"H-he said he wanted to take me swimming, down at the hotel p-pool," she whispered, fixing her gaze on a crack in Jacob's windshield. "Said my dad would be fine with it. I said I didn't want to, that I hadn't brought a swimsuit. He s-said I didn't need one." Bella swallowed again, forcing her throat muscles to move. It hadn't really been what he said, exactly, but the way he said it that was terrifying. She'd known the moment he walked into her bedroom that something bad was going to happen. His words could have meant something benign, like she could swim in shorts and a t-shirt if she wanted. But his tone said differently. The moment he said those words, Bella knew better.

"Stop," Jacob said suddenly.

Bella looked at him for the first time since she'd started talking. He was staring straight ahead out the windshield, and his chest rose and fell quickly as he breathed. His voice had been higher than normal, a little unsure, though the command to stop talking had been loud.

"Stop," he said again, his voice quivering. "I don't want to hear anymore. Tell Charlie, not me. He's a cop, and your dad."

"I did tell Charlie," Bella whispered, and she forced herself to watch Jacob as she spoke. She didn't want to see his pain, and yet, she did. He'd never quite believed her about Charlie's ruthlessness, but maybe now this story would make him see. "I told him that night. He slapped me and told me never to mention it again."

"Bullshit!" Jacob screeched. "I don't buy it! He's a  _cop_ , Bella!"

She paused for a moment, but when Jacob said nothing more she continued to talk. "Charlie must have told the guy from Tacoma, because the next day he came back again. With friends."

"Stop," Jacob demanded, but his voice was weaker. "Stop, please."

Bella looked out the windshield again. "When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't bother telling my mom. She wouldn't care. Charlie told me I had to get an abortion, and I was okay with that. I just wanted to forget that the whole thing had ever happened. I wasn't even sixteen yet at the time, but all I was waiting for was graduation. I just wanted to turn eighteen and get out of Charlie's house for good." Bella swallowed. It was still what she wanted, but now she wasn't so clear on what she would do afterward. Thoughts of the Cullens and their warm, loving family clogged her mind and she couldn't think clearly about running away. Not when the only people who had shown her any kindness in years were here, in Forks.

"The minute Charlie realized I agreed with him and wanted an abortion, he forbade me to get one."

"Bella, that doesn't make any sense," Jacob argued. "Why would he change his mind like that? Besides, abortion is wrong. Don't you know that?"

"It's not wrong all the time," she said, leaning her tired body carefully against her door for support. "It's a choice - never a happy one, but sometimes necessary. But even though I went back to Phoenix soon after, I couldn't do it. I was too afraid of Charlie, and what he would do if he found out I disobeyed him." Bella chewed on her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth. "I thought he wanted to make me hurt by making me have the baby, then forcing me to give it up. I was wrong."

"I'm glad you realize that. A father couldn't do something like that, Bella, it's just cruel. I know your dad isn't all hugs and kisses and whatever, but he's still your dad."

"Yeah, he is," Bella agreed unenthusiastically. "And what he did was much, much worse." She picked at her short fingernails. The pink polish Alice had insisted upon was chipping already, and she chipped it some more as she worried. "You know I never come up here for spring break, but he made me this time. Renee is clueless, and I wore baggy clothes all winter. She never suspected anything. Charlie took me to a hospital here in Olympia so no one in Forks would know, and he had the doctors induce labor."

"Where is this story going?" Jacob asked, his voice faint. "I'm not even sure I believe it, but I need you to get to the point. Why are we here, Bella?"

"The baby was born, and I was loopy from the painkillers. I didn't want to see him, but the nurse put him on my stomach and he opened his eyes and looked at me. Didn't cry - just looked at me. I didn't dare touch him, but I couldn't look away." Bella felt the first hot tear drop to her cheek, and she sniffed, forcing the rest of them back. "He wasn't cute - he was all wet and kind of slimy, and his head was shaped weird. He was a funny color, too - red and purple and gray and pink kind of mottled together. I learned later, reading in the library, that that's normal and goes away in the first hour or so. But even though he looked strange, his eyes were so...real. So human. And I knew, even though I didn't want to be a mom, that I'd do whatever I could to keep him safe from Charlie."

Bella paused to take a steadying breath, and she glanced at Jacob. He was still staring out the windshield, and his whole body radiated tension.

"That was the only time I saw him. Charlie made up a father's name on the birth certificate, to keep his friend in Tacoma safe. He told the doctor and the social worker that the guy was in military school, so he couldn't sign away his parental rights to the baby. At least I got to name him - they came in my room and asked me when Charlie wasn't there. But because the fake father hasn't signed away parental rights, the baby is in a group home here in Olympia. He can't be adopted until that happens. Charlie did it on purpose, and he threatened me that if I ever ran away he'd just bring the baby home to abuse in my place."

"Bella, can we not use words like 'abuse' please? Don't you think you're kind of overreacting a little?"

Bella was silent for a long minute. She wanted to feel waves of anger that Jacob would simply brush aside what was so obvious to her - so obvious to the Cullens, even - in order to keep his worldview intact. But she couldn't. She couldn't be angry at Jacob. She was too tired, and she needed his help too badly. Once this day's ordeal was over, though, she doubted she'd ever see him willingly again. Their friendship had lasted many years, but it ultimately couldn't last this sort of betrayal.

"Look, Jake, you can call it whatever you want. I'm not here to force you to see what's right in front of you. We're here to do one thing, and one thing only."

"And what's that?"

She paused, hoping that Jacob's word meant enough to him that he would still help her after he heard her plan. "Sign away our rights to the baby, as his parents," she said quickly, watching him cautiously, "and let the Cullens adopt him."

Bella had expected a loud tirade, but Jacob merely dropped his head into his hands. "I thought you said this had nothing to do with Charlie," he mumbled.

"It shouldn't," she replied. "This is between me, the baby, and the Cullens. Jake, you promised. You  _promised_."

"I know, I know." He groaned and lifted his head. "If you're telling me the truth, Charlie will skin us both alive for this."

"No, he won't," Bella said. "I'll tell him it was all my idea, that you didn't know what I put you up to - which is true. So he'll have no reason to get mad at you."

"And you?"

Bella was silent for a long moment. "If you don't believe I'm being abused," she finally said, her voice cold, "then there's nothing for either of us to worry about, is there?"

Jacob groaned again, but by the droop of his shoulders Bella knew he was going to give in. She felt a huge weight lift from her as she found a pen and thrust the paperwork under his nose. "Sign in all the boxes where it says 'father's name.' They should all be next to my signatures."

He did as he was told, though his hand shook a little. "I thought you said there was some random name as the dad," he said, though. "What are we going to tell them?"

"Don't worry," Bella said, and she took a deep breath before opening the car door and stepping out. "I've got a plan."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Heidi was good at her job, and knew it. Harried, overworked - but good, nonetheless. She sat at her little cubicle, glancing through one of her newest case files. A set of twin girls had been removed from their home after their older sister died during some sort of faith healing gone wrong. She shook her head, clucking sadly as she looked at the latest report sent from the girls' foster home. They had nightmares, and were hardly eating. One chewed her hair compulsively, and the other would get up in the middle of the night and try to clean the house in her sleep. Her foster parents had to guide their somnambulist charge back to bed after rubbing soap suds off her hands, most nights.

Being a social worker for the state was hard, but Heidi had known ever since she was in high school that this was what she wanted to do. She wanted to help children, but she didn't care to be a doctor or nurse, and she wasn't cut out to teach. Social work fit her perfectly. It was hard work and the pay wasn't great, but she knew that what she did was vital, and she could see the difference she made in the lives of her charges.

Often all the parents needed was some guidance - maybe some parenting classes, which the state provided when necessary. Just a little wake-up call. She also worked with children whose parents were in jail or mental health facilities, and orphans.

The hard cases were the ones of blatant abuse. They happened all too often - much more often than Heidi would like to see. Not the well-meaning but thoughtless parents, but the ones who purposefully hurt their children. Some of what Heidi had seen sickened her, even though she was young and had not been working for the state for all that long. This was her fifth year. Some of her colleagues had been here decades.

Her telephone rang suddenly, and Heidi picked it up. It was the receptionist.

"Hi, Paige," Heidi said, smiling as she put the receiver on her shoulder, holding it to her ear carefully as she used her hands to sort some files. "What's up?"

"There's a young couple here to see you," the receptionist said. "The girl says she's a client of yours?"

"Name?"

"Isabella Swan."

"Yes," Heidi said, without having to page through her files. "Yes, I remember her. Teen girl with a baby born this spring, poor kid. Technically she's not my client, but her son is."

"Can I send them back?"

Heidi glanced at her watch. She had several home visits to do this afternoon, but she had time for a quick meeting. "Sure," she said. "I'll come out and get them."

Putting the phone down, Heidi paused and reached for the file in question, sliding the others off to the side of her desk for a moment. She opened it, and scanned the information to make sure she had, indeed, remembered the correct client before heading to the lobby to fetch them. She had no idea why the girl would be here looking for her, but it was her job to help people, and if Isabella Swan needed help, then she was going to help her.

Standing with the file in hand, Heidi began weaving her way through the maze of cheap cubicles. Turning a page in the file, she came across her own handwritten notes from April.

 _Isabella Swan seems jumpy, nervous. Afraid to answer questions. Can't get her alone without her father,_  she read. Rereading the words she'd written months ago, she recalled just how the girl had looked in her hospital room - so pale and withdrawn, staring at her hands or at the floor but almost never looking anyone in the eye. Her father had always been in the room, acting concerned and protective, but Isabella's actions had been at odds with her father's. It was very strange, she remembered thinking.

Now she rounded a final corner and found herself facing the same pale girl with the same big, sad eyes. A baby-faced boy stood beside her, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Heidi smiled and beckoned to them.

"Come with me?" she asked. "We'll go sit at my desk and talk, if that's all right?"

Isabella nodded gratefully, and Heidi noticed that she clutched several papers in her hand. The boy followed a step behind them, as Heidi led them back to her cubicle.

"It's nice to see you again, Isabella," she said, drawing up a couple of chairs. "You're looking well." It wasn't entirely true - the girl looked exhausted, in fact, and she was walking strangely. But most teenage girls responded well to flattery, and Heidi wanted to put her at ease.

The girl's cheeks turned pink, and Heidi hid a smile. She looked much better when she blushed - almost healthy.

"Can you tell me why you're here?"

Isabella hesitated, gathering her thoughts, and Heidi let her. Rushing her would only make her more flustered.

"I have a confession to make," she said finally.

"I have sympathetic ears," Heidi said gently, smiling. "Let's hear it."

"The name m-my dad put on t-the birth certificate? The father's name?"

"Yes?" Heidi urged. "What about it?"

"It's not t-true."

"I see." Heidi paused. "Did your dad know the truth?"

Isabella nodded slowly. "H-he was trying to protect us," she said. "He d-doesn't like Jake."

Heidi glanced at the sweet-faced boy next to Isabella. "And is this Jake?"

The girl nodded, looking miserable. "B-but Ch - dad thought, because Jake is - " She stopped abruptly and motioned to him helplessly.

"It's okay," Heidi said, smiling gently. "I see a lot of people with racist thoughts in here, though I wish I didn't." She appraised Jake unobtrusively. He was really quite a good-looking kid, she thought, and the poor boy seemed so nervous sitting next to Isabella. But, then, most teenage fathers Heidi dealt with were nervous - sometimes too nervous to talk, even. They all had that look of having done something wrong, though Jake especially looked like a puppy presented with a rolled-up newspaper.

Isabella looked relieved, and she nodded. "I hate to bring it up," she whispered. "But I didn't want the baby sitting around when I could do something about it."

"We can change the birth certificate so it's right, and if Jake here is willing, he can sign over his paternal rights to the state, so your son can go up for adoption. Being multiracial won't hurt his chances at adoption at all. It might even help him get into a home with other Native American family members. That is, if you're willing?"

Isabella hesitated, and Heidi felt her heart sink. She had had the distinct impression when they'd met last spring that Isabella wanted her baby to go to a good home. Heidi did not generally like separating biological family members, but it was so difficult for teenage mothers to successfully juggle kids and school and jobs and everything else. What was best for Isabella, Jake, and the baby, she felt, was adoption. But it looked as if Isabella were having second thoughts.

"I k-kind of had a thought about th-that, too," Isabella said.

"About what?" Heidi asked carefully. She hadn't remembered Isabella as a stutterer, but the girl's frightened little voice was trembling and quiet.

"C-can I choose? Where he goes, I mean?"

Heidi cocked her head to the side; this was better than she had hoped. At least it didn't look like Isabella had unrealistic expectations about keeping the baby and living happily ever after. "Possibly. What, exactly, did you have in mind?"

The girl swallowed. She seemed so nervous, poor thing, and Heidi felt her heart go out to her. It wasn't often that she got teenage mothers in here trying to do the right thing for the child. So often they were blinded by the dream of having something to love instead of the reality of raising a real flesh-and-blood child. "Th-there's a family in F-forks, where I live. They're good, amazing people. Doctor Carlisle and Esme Cullen."

Heidi felt a big smile spread across her face. "Oh, yes," she said, "the Cullens. Of course we know them. Picture-perfect parents, and so loving." She paused. "But they have teenagers, honey. I can call them, but I don't know how they'd feel about taking in a baby."

Isabella turned pink again. She brought forth the papers she'd been holding. "Actually," she whispered, "I already asked them. Just in case."

Heidi took the papers and looked at them. There was the form signing away parental rights, and both Isabella and Jake - Jacob Black, it seemed, from his signature - had signed it. And then there was an adoption form, and it was signed by Isabella, Jacob...and both Dr. and Mrs. Cullen.

"Well," Heidi said, staring at the paperwork. "Well." She'd never had something handed to her so neatly wrapped before. The children were willing to give up their baby, and the prospective family wanted it. Everything seemed in order.

"One more thing," Isabella said quietly, and she brought out another paper. Heidi studied it.

 _To Whom It May Concern,_  it read,  _Esme and I are overjoyed at the prospect of adding a new member to our family, as are our other children. We know the state might be hesitant to place another child with us, seeing as we already have five. But Emmett, Jasper, and Rosalie are seniors in high school, and the other two are juniors. While we fully intend to continue to parent them as they start their lives as young adults, they will not be needing the kind of round-the-clock care young children require. We would feel blessed to mitigate our soon-to-be empty nest with a new son._

Our family has known Bella for a while now, and we are proud that she has asked us to do her this honor. She has requested one thing in return, which I am now asking you to grant her. Please allow her to bring the child to us in Forks. She would like the time to talk with him and say goodbye, as she herself will soon be graduating from high school and moving on. We support this request, and hope that you will allow it. Cordially, Dr. Carlisle Cullen.

"Well..." Heidi said again, and cleared her throat. "You must understand that this is quite an unusual case."

"Yes," Isabella - Bella? - whispered. "I do. But they're good people, and I want them to have him."

"Let me make a few calls," Heidi said, opening her online address book and finding the number of a family-court judge she knew was working that day. "Sit tight, and I'll try to get you an answer."

Fifty minutes later, they had their answer. The judge had approved everything the moment he heard the name  _Cullen_. "It's not standard procedure," he said, "as you well know. But seeing as it's the Cullens, I feel comfortable letting them do what they like. Make sure the birth mother has a carseat for the infant, and call to follow up that everyone did, indeed, get home all right. I'll fax you back the forms with my signature, and the birth parents can pick up the baby this afternoon."

* * *

Rose sat stoically in calculus class, gazing out the window. It wasn't like she needed to hear any of this shit; she'd heard it all a million times before. She supposed she should at least try to be grateful that she wasn't required to take an art class this year; art was even worse. All those touchy-feely old hippie teachers wanting the students to "get in touch with their feelings" and all the other bullshit. She couldn't stand that. Math was better. In math class, everything was impersonal, exactly how she preferred it.

She was still angry at just about everyone, even though she knew the anger wasn't helping anything. Carlisle agreed with Edward that Bella was more than likely on the reservation; they'd searched the town Sunday night and found no trace of her. Edward was about ready to break the treaty, but Carlisle patently forbid it. He had a meeting scheduled with the wolf pack that night; Rosalie didn't know how much he planned to share with them, but she hoped as little as possible. Only as much as required to gain information back from the pack, particularly about whether they knew anything of Bella's whereabouts. Charlie's location was, thankfully, very clear. He had returned to the police station around ten that morning, according to Alice. Rose suspected her scattered little sister perhaps had something to do with the break-in at the bank, though Alice wasn't talking. It was a good idea, Rose had to admit. Something serious enough to keep Charlie's attention on his work and away from Bella. They might not know exactly where she was, but they knew that she wasn't with Charlie. And that was a good thing - perhaps the only good thing that had happened that day.

Edward had come to school with them, though he'd insisted they take two cars in case he needed to go anywhere. Rose had dragged everyone else in her car without a word. Emmett was worried about her and refused to leave her side unless absolutely necessary, and Edward was still ready to attack Jasper and Alice at the drop of a hat, so it was best to just leave him alone and let him stew. Rose pitied him, knowing how awful it must feel to be ripped away from his mate, but this sulking wasn't helping anything. She was still furious with Alice and Jasper, too, but what's done was done. Edward would have to get over it at some point.

Her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket, and Rose shot a hand out to quiet it before the teacher noticed. Her lightning-fast reflexes made it easy to silence the vibration before most human ears caught it. One or two students glanced around with furrowed brows, but their attention returned to the droning teacher after a few moments.

Moving slowly so as not to draw attention to herself, Rosalie slid the phone from her pocket. She had a text from Alice.

 _Esme is taking a book to Carlisle to read while he watches Charlie's house,_  it read.  _Someone should be at the house while she's gone. Best leave now._

Rose scowled. She was positive that that irritating little pixie had seen something, but just as sure that there was no use asking what the vision had been. Alice enjoyed being cryptic, and likely wouldn't tell no matter how much she was cajoled or threatened. Stifling an irritated sigh, Rose made sure she had her car keys before bolting from her chair.

"Bathroom!" she yelled in the direction of the teacher, feeling his startled gaze as she ran out of the classroom. She rolled her eyes as she ran at human speed down the hall, heading for the parking lot. She'd have to fake illness later, to get back into the teacher's good graces, and to retrieve her bag, which she'd left in the classroom. It wouldn't make any sense for a student with sudden nausea or something to calmly gather up her belongings before running to the restroom.

Rose dove for her car and revved the engine, peeling out of the parking lot and heading for home. The round trip from their house to Charlie's by car was maybe half an hour, and Esme would likely stop to talk with her husband as well. The window of opportunity for Bella to call was just too big; Alice was right enough about that. But why had she insisted Rose go home, instead of doing it herself? She had a key to Rose's car, not to mention running skills. She had to have seen something that made her choose Rosalie. Rose just had no idea what that might be.

Finally the driveway came in sight. Rose slowed to make the turn, and forced herself to keep a reasonable pace as she headed up the drive. She usually parked in the garage, but was feeling too impatient to wait for the automatic door opener, so she killed the engine and hopped out in the gravel driveway.

The moment her feet hit the ground, she knew something was...not wrong, exactly, but not right, either. She caught the faintest whiff of Bella in the air, and wolf again. Esme's car was nowhere to be found, so she had clearly already left. Rose swore under her breath. Had Bella come back, only to leave again when she found no one home? She turned to head up to the front door, and froze.

There, on the dry front porch, was a carseat. A baby's carseat.

Cautiously, Rose climbed the steps, her eyes trained on the grey plastic. It was turned toward the door, so she could not see whether the thing was occupied or not until she got much, much closer. Gaining the top step, Rose reached out a hand and slowly turned the seat around.

In it, swathed in a blue fleece blanket with little red fire engines printed on it, lay a baby.

He wasn't asleep; he was watching Rose with big blue eyes, and she stared back at him intently. She sniffed experimentally, trying to remain calm. He didn't smell much like Bella, but her scent was on him, and on the carseat and blanket, too.

Even without Bella's scent, there wasn't much question about who might have dropped a baby on the Cullen doorstep. Nobody in their right mind would leave a defenseless infant with a coven of vampires, and despite the fact that their cover story was as a foster family, Rose doubted anyone in Forks would feel comfortable leaving a baby with them, either. They were too standoffish, too strange; they did not fit in with the rest of the town. People would sooner leave an infant with Charlie than with the Cullens.

But not Bella. Rose rolled her eyes. Of course not Bella. This would be the first place she'd bring an infant in trouble.

But where, oh where, had he come from?

Rose hesitantly reached out a finger and touched his nose. His eyes crossed as he tried to watch, and he laughed when she made contact. His eyes were big and wide, and beautifully blue.

"Where in the world did you come from, huh?" Rose asked softly. If she were human, her heart would be in her throat, she thought. This was the thing she could never have, and, perversely, the one thing she desperately wanted. It was the one thing that kept her up at night, figuratively speaking, and the one wish Emmett lamented he could never give her. She brushed her fingertip over his loose fist, and he grabbed for it. She let him catch her, and his warm little fingers grasped hers firmly. He shook her finger a few times, and his eyes flicked up to hers again. Blue met gold, and Rose fell instantly. She unhooked the strap holding him in his seat, and carefully lifted him into her arms.

She'd held babies before, as a human, but those memories were distant and faint. It was like a brand new experience as she balanced the little boy upright in the crook of one arm, her other holding his back so he didn't tip backwards. He looked up at her again and poked one chubby finger in his mouth, where she saw that he had one lower tooth already fully in, and just the hint of another.

The sound of wheels on gravel alerted Rose to someone else's presence, and she turned reluctantly from her perusal of the baby to watch Esme pull up to the house.

The mother figure was at her side in a moment, almost stammering in her confusion and shock. "Where...when...?"

"I don't know," Rose said, touching the baby's dark, wispy curls. "Alice texted me in class, told me to come watch the house since you went to see Carlisle. When I got here, he was waiting on the porch."

"Well, hello," Esme said, touching his rosy cheek. "Where did you come from, huh?" She took the carseat in her hands and lifted it easily. "Let's get him inside first. Then we'll decide what to do."

Since there was no point in hanging out on the porch with a baby in tow, Rosalie agreed. She followed Esme inside, and they gravitated to the living room.

"He's adorable," Esme said, tickling his chin. He laughed and made several small burbling noises.

"He's got Bella's scent on him," Rose replied.

Esme glanced up at her. "Yes," she said, "I noticed. Did you happen to see her?"

Rose shook her head reluctantly. "Believe me, I wish I did."

Esme sighed, then tore her attention away from the baby long enough to glance at the carseat she'd brought in. She shook out the soft blanket, and a white envelope fell to the floor. "Maybe this will shed some light on things?"

"Let's hope so," Rosalie said, bouncing the baby gently in her arms. "Because I'm sure as hell not turning him over to the police. Not when I know who's in charge over there."

Esme pulled out several pieces of paper, frowning in concentration. "That's strange - here's an old invoice from when we had this house built. And here's - " she stopped short, gasping a little.

"Esme? What's wrong?"

"It's his birth certificate. Oh, dear - Bella's his mother."

Rose looked at the baby in her grasp. "So that's what she was hiding from us," she murmured.

"Wait just a moment, there's more." Esme felt her hands begin to tremble and tried to contain it. "Rose, you won't believe it. It's a certificate of adoption."

Rosalie's eyes snapped up. "Who does it name?"

Esme's voice was no more than a ghost. "Me and Carlisle." She swallowed. "That must be what she wanted the invoice for; our signatures are forged. Oh, the poor girl..."

The door slammed open suddenly, and Esme and Rose turned to see the rest of the Cullen "children" troop into the house. Alice, in the lead, stopped short when she entered the living room and saw the baby. She looked surprised for a moment, but then she relaxed. "Oh, so  _that's_  what she was dropping off. It all makes sense now."

"What does?" Edward growled from the back of the pack. "Who dropped what off? What's going on?"

"Duuude," Emmett whispered, drawing out the vowel.

"You don't have to whisper," Rose said, smiling at her husband. "He's awake."

"It's a he?"

"Well, look what he's wearing. It's not exactly subtle." Rose tugged on the long sleeve of his red shirt, with a decal of a fire engine on it. He was also wearing elastic-waisted little jeans, and little red socks.

Everyone had trooped into the living room by then, and Rose looked up to see Edward scowling ferociously at the baby. "Why," he demanded, "does he smell like Bella?"

"Technically, he doesn't," Rose said, securing the baby in a more protective grasp and watching Edward warily. He did not seem particularly sympathetic toward the child, and Rose didn't want anything to happen that they would all regret later. "He doesn't smell like Bella at all - but, then, Bella doesn't smell like Charlie, either, so I guess that whole family's fucked up in some weird way."

Edward's frown turned angrier. "I smell Bella!" he snapped.

"Yes," Rose said. "His blanket and carseat smell like her." She glanced at Esme, wondering just how much to tell her furious brother at this moment.

"I had a vision of Rose finding something that Bella had dropped off," Alice said before Esme could take hold of the situation. "I didn't see Bella - I almost never see Bella - but I knew it was her."

"I smelled wolf, too," Jasper said. "When we pulled up. She must still be with her friend from the reservation."

"Jacob," Rose supplied absently, watching as Alice dropped to her knees next to the couch and tickled the baby's little foot.

"Oh, he's so cute!" Alice grinned. "I wondered what she meant about protecting someone small, but it all makes sense now."

"No, it doesn't," Esme cut in, "but this might help." She held up a piece of paper covered in Bella's sloppy scrawl. "Shall I?"

"Please," Rose said, jiggling the baby again. "I just hope she has a good explanation for all of this."

Esme cleared her throat unnecessarily and began.

_Dear Cullen family. Words cannot express how grateful I am for all you have done for me, or how much I care for you. You've shown me what a real family is supposed to be like, and let me be a part of yours for a short time. It's meant more to me than I can tell you. Please don't worry about me. I left of my own free will, and I did it for a good reason. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I just didn't know how to say it. I feel so ashamed, and afraid. It's best that I go, both so Charlie won't hurt you, and so you don't have to pretend to still like me once you know the full truth. But where to begin? It's so hard to know how to say these things, even now._

_I guess I should start back last summer. Charlie had to go to a training program in Seattle, and he took me with him because he doesn't trust me to be alone. We shared a hotel suite with other police officers from around the state. Some of the guys would...say stuff to me, and touch me. Charlie said I wasn't being friendly when I flinched, and I'd be in big trouble if I didn't knock it off._

_One day one of the guys from Tacoma - an old friend of Charlie's - came back when everyone else was gone. I don't want to talk about it, so please don't make me say any more than that. He said I'd be in trouble if I told. I tried to tell Charlie that evening, but he hit me and told me to stop telling lies. The next day the officer from Tacoma returned...with friends. Charlie must have told him what I said. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier when you asked, but I just want to forget it ever happened. I can't deal with it, and I don't want people to know. I hate when they look at me like my life is over because of this one thing. Maybe they're right, but I keep thinking that if I could start over somewhere, if Charlie let me live, I could maybe just forget it. And if nobody ever knew, then it would be like it never happened._

_When Charlie found out I was pregnant, he wanted me to get rid of it. Until he realized I felt the same way he did about the whole thing. Then he told me I had to go through with it. I thought he just wanted to watch me hurt, to watch me carry a baby and then be forced to give it up. But I was wrong._

_So this is Mason, Mason Ryan Swan - Cullen, now, if you agree. He was born April 14th, like it says on his birth certificate. I wore baggy clothes and my mother didn't even notice I was pregnant. I never go to Charlie's for spring break, but he had me come up this year and had the doctors induce labor at a hospital in Olympia so no one here in Forks would know. Charlie made up a name to put as the father on the birth certificate, to keep his friend safe, and said the guy was in military school so he couldn't sign away parental rights. Because of Charlie's lie, Mason has been in a group home in Olympia his entire life. I wanted him to be adopted by a good family, but until we had a father to sign away parental rights, that couldn't happen. Charlie did it on purpose, and threatened that if I ever tried to run away he would just go get Mason from Olympia and take custody. I couldn't let that happen, so you see, I had to go back to him. I'm not ready to be a mom, and I don't want Mason, but I couldn't let Charlie do that to him. He didn't ask to be born. None of this is his fault._

_You've probably already looked at the other papers, and you saw that I forged your signatures on the adoption certificate. I'm so, so sorry that I had to do that, but I couldn't think of any other way to get Mason away from Charlie for good. He's just a baby and he deserves a good home. My friend Jacob Black agreed to go with me and sign away paternal rights, even though he's not the father. I know you don't like the tribe, but this is a big thing Jacob did for me._

_I know your secret. I know you're vampires. I'm sorry - I didn't snoop or anything, but it's just the only explanation that makes sense. It's okay, I promise not to tell anyone. And I trust you with Mason. If you agree to take him, I'm sure you'll be the best family a kid could ever have._

_Esme, you're the mother I always wished I had. And I know you lost a son of your own. I don't want to dredge up old, painful memories, which is one reason why I was hoping that Rosalie could maybe be Mason's mom. Both of you are wonderful people, but I know Rose always wanted a baby of her own. Well, this is something I can do for you, Rose. Please take him. I put Carlisle and Esme's names on the certificate because you're passing as a juvenile. I don't know how old you really are, but I'm guessing old enough to handle raising a baby, with everyone else's help, of course. Mason can't replace Esme's lost Angus, but maybe he can give you the chance you never got when you were human._

_Alice and Jasper, thank you for letting me go. Thank you for giving me the chance to save him from Charlie._

_Emmett, you're the best big brother anyone could ask for. I'm sure you'll make a wonderful dad._

_Edward, I'm sorry. Thank you for everything. I love you so much that it hurts, but you deserve someone whole, someone without so much baggage. I hope you find her soon. Love, Bella._

"Oh my gosh," Alice said, staring at the baby in Rose's arms. "Rose, you have to give him back!"

"What?" Rosalie blinked. That certainly wasn't what she had gleaned from Bella's letter. She shifted the baby from her hip to her lap, holding his round, soft little body firmly. It wasn't what she'd taken away from Bella's letter at all, and now that the idea had been broached, she realized that she didn't like it. Not one bit. "What on Earth makes you say that?"

"It's staring us in the face; don't you see?" Alice insisted. "Poor Bella! And poor baby! His name is even Mason - what more proof do you need that Bella and Edward were meant to raise this baby together, as a family?"

Rosalie glanced first at Emmett, then at Edward. She saw Emmett's face fall at the suggestion that he give up his newly-acquired daddy title to his brother, and the dejected look on his face tore her to pieces. Edward looked no happier, though for different reasons. He was absolutely glowering - first at Alice, then at the infant on Rosalie's lap.

"It's not even spelled the same," Rose protested, taking Bella's note from Esme and perusing it. The baby - Mason - patted the paper with one fat starfish hand. "Ba!" he said proudly.

"Bella said herself she doesn't want it," Edward bit out, his voice tight with anger. "Weren't you listening?"

"How could you believe that?" Alice asked. "How could a mother not want her child?"

"When it's the product of rape," Edward replied, his voice growing louder as he fought for control. "When it's a boy that doesn't even look like her, so it must look like the attacker."

"Edward has a point," Rose said slowly, watching him warily. She didn't at all like the deep anger building inside of him, or the way he stared at Mason with black, accusing eyes. She noticed, also, that he'd several times referred to the baby boy as an "it," and to the father only as an attacker. Rosalie ached, understanding both his position and her own. He was too in love with Bella, too concerned for Bella, to have any sort of pity for the child Rose now held. Though his eyes showed him an innocent infant who hadn't purposefully done any harm to anybody, his heart also whispered that this was the reason Bella had left him. This was the secret that was tearing her apart, leaving her so empty inside that she felt she had no option other than to return to the father that beat her.

"He does," Esme agreed, though Rose saw how troubled their mother figure was. "We need to talk about this - all of us. I'll call Carlisle."

He was home in a matter of minutes, and snapped into doctor-mode the moment he saw the little boy in Rose's arms, playing with her ring of keys. The coffee table became a temporary examining table, and everyone watched carefully as he gave Mason a quick check-up. He took his temperature, weighed and measured him, and carefully stretched and rotated his arms and legs, making the boy laugh.

"Ew, Rose, that can't be healthy," Emmett said, wrinkling his nose as Mason lay on his back and kicked happily at Carlisle, one of Rosalie's keys firmly in his mouth. He drooled as he gummed it, his little fingers getting wet and sticky.

"He'll be fine, I'm sure," Carlisle said easily. "For how much human babies put in their mouths, they have amazing immune systems. We should go pick up some toys he can safely chew on, though." He put a finger in Mason's mouth, feeling around. Mason burbled happily and dropped the keys, latching onto Carlisle's hand instead and biting down. "He's teething," Carlisle said with a small smile. "I'm sure the cold feels good. We'll have to get him some teethers we can put in the refrigerator."

"No need," Emmett said. He plucked Mason up from the table, his giant hands almost swallowing the baby, and positioned him in his lap. Mason looked up at the linebacker-bodied vampire with wide eyes, and Emmett grinned back. "Hey there, little dude. Do your teeth hurt? You can chew on me all you want." He rubbed a finger at the corner of Mason's wet mouth.

The baby turned its head and began gnawing happily. "Ar-ar-ar!" he intoned as he chewed.

"So you think you're a pirate, huh?" Emmett grinned. "Can we get him a little pirate costume for Halloween?"

"Oh my gosh, yes!" Alice squealed. "With a little eyepatch, and a little stuffed parrot!"

"Or how about I dress up as a pirate," Emmett said, "and  _he_  can be my parrot?"

"Let's just take this one thing at a time, now," Carlisle said, as the papers were passed to him. He scanned them all quickly, saving Bella's note for last. When he was finished he glanced up. Rose watched him, waiting for his response. He looked at the pile of family centered around Mason, and then at the stragglers. Jasper was sitting in a nearby chair, keeping a careful distance, though he seemed in control and peaceful. It was Edward, standing in a corner and glaring still, that worried Rose. Carlisle too, it seemed.

"So the question is," Carlisle said quietly, "what do we do now?"

Esme nodded. "There have been several suggestions."

"I think we should give him back to Bella," Alice said. She sat on the floor next to Emmett, her eyes trained on the baby. "Then she and Edward can be his parents."

Rose watched Carlisle glance at Edward again. "Son?" he asked hesitantly. "What do you feel about all this?"

Edward was silent for a long moment, and when he did speak, his voice was still angry, though he seemed marginally more in-control. "Bella said she didn't want it. I believe her. If Rose wants to play house, let her. That's what Bella said she wanted."

"But how can a mother not want her own baby?" Alice asked again. It was the same question Edward had answered earlier, and Rose watched him scowl fiercely at his little sister.

"We need to find Bella and ask her to be sure," Carlisle said gently, "but it's very possible she meant what she said. Certainly she was correct when she said she wasn't ready to be a mother. There's no way that child is emotionally stable enough to deal with the pressure of raising an infant, particularly one that came about as the result of rape." He shook his head a little. "Poor girl. The physical abuse was bad enough, but what Charlie did to her and Mason is inexcusable. He should have let Bella go through with the abortion, if that was her choice, or let a loving family have the baby when he was born. Keeping him as emotional blackmail to force Bella to stay is beyond inhuman." He sighed. "And it puts Bella in a very difficult situation. This child is a virtual stranger to her. He's five months old, and they've never had a chance to bond. If the hospital staff knew he was being turned over to the state, it's very likely she never got the chance to hold him. It's possible she never even saw him. And yet there's an unbreakable bond, there, whether Bella likes it or not. She couldn't abandon him to a fate with Charlie, not even for the sake of her own safety."

"So we're back where we were before?" Rosalie asked. "Finding Bella?" She was itching to hold the baby again, but she didn't want to take him from Emmett's arms. Emmett looked so awkward, his big bulk holding the baby. Mason was a good-sized child, round and well-grown, but he looked like a little newborn in Emmett's grasp. But Emmett just kept grinning foolishly down at Mason as the baby gnawed away at his finger, both seeming perfectly content.

"Yes?" Carlisle said, glancing at the rest of the family. Edward turned away, staring resolutely out the window, but everyone else managed to nod back at him. "All right, then. Mason will need some things if he's to stay here with us." Carlisle paused. "Jasper?"

"I'm fine," Jasper said with a small smile. "I just wanted to be sure. He smells kind of funny, anyway. Not much like a meal."

"He's so little, he wouldn't make much of a meal anyway," Emmett joked.

"It's an infant's defense mechanism," Carlisle said with a smile. "He'll begin to smell more appealing as he ages. But with any luck, we'll have things settled by then."

"Settled how?" Rosalie asked quickly, feeling a sudden, unexpected panic at the idea of Mason leaving them. She stared at the child in Emmett's lap, wondering how she could have fallen so hard, so soon. He wasn't hers, she had to remind herself. But the words sounded false in her mind. The truth was that she had claimed him the moment her eyes met his on the damp front porch, and he had accepted. If Bella changed her mind and wanted him back, Rose would give him up, she supposed. But for nothing, and no one, else. If she and Emmett had to leave the rest of the Cullens for a while in order to raise him, she would. That was how much she wanted the little boy currently drooling all over Emmett's finger.

"I don't know yet," Carlisle said. "It all depends on Bella, and the rest of us, I suppose. Don't worry, Rose." He smiled. "We won't argue the adoption papers Bella gave us. It was a grand thing she did - grand and desperate. Now we can only wait and see what she says when we find her again."

"And if she doesn't want to be found?" Jasper asked suddenly. "That letter seemed pretty absolute."

"She can't stay on the reservation forever," Carlisle said. "We should get back to watching her father's house."

"I'll go for a while," Jasper volunteered, but when they turned to make sure that was all right with everyone, Edward was already gone.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella's hand shook, and the knife she was holding clattered to the floor. She sighed, glad that she hadn't stabbed herself accidentally, and bent to retrieve it. Ever since returning to Charlie's house after leaving Mason on the Cullens' doorstep she'd been jittery and uncomfortable, waiting for Charlie to come home. She had no idea if he already knew she'd been out of school, or why, but he'd find out at some point and she knew she'd be in for it then. Briefly she toyed with the idea of running away, but she had very little money and nowhere to go. Returning to the Cullens just wasn't an option, though she missed them all with a gut-wrenching ache that pulled at her heart in a way she'd never before experienced. They'd had to have found Mason by now, and that meant they had her note. And if they had her note, they knew everything. They knew all of her secrets now. As much as she wanted to believe that her past didn't matter, that they would welcome her back no matter what had happened to her before, she couldn't do it. She couldn't make herself believe that it was true. She trusted that they would take care of the baby - Rose and Esme would see to that. But she did not feel that she deserved the same kind of affection. Not now that they knew the truth.

The door slammed open and Bella dropped the knife again, her trembling doubling as she heard Charlie's heavy, booted footsteps. He was muttering under his breath, and he didn't even stop to take his jacket off before he stormed into the kitchen. Bella pressed her back against the counter, color draining from her face as her father came into view.

He stared at her for a long moment, then at the knife on the ground. "Pick it up," he ordered.

Bella did, wincing as she forced her sore, abused body to bend. She had to grab onto the counter to help herself back up: her muscles ached and did not want to obey.

"Now give it to me."

It was a small, serrated paring knife that she'd been using to debone a fish from the freezer. Though small, the blade was sharp, and Bella flinched as she reluctantly handed it over to Charlie. He toyed with it, playing the tip against his callused thumb as he eyed her.

"You really are something, Bells," he said, shaking his head. "Today was just not the day to fuck with me. I was at work all day, then up all night, then at work again because of this damn break-in at the bank. You knew that, because you spent the night at Billy's. Now, tell me why exactly I have to come home and punish you for skipping school today?"

He took a step toward her and Bella tried to back away but she was pressed against the counter and had nowhere to go. Light from the overhead fixture glinted off the knife. It was still afternoon and she had not particularly expected Charlie home yet, but as the police chief he seemed to set his own rules. She shook as he took another step toward her, the knife in his hand.

"You listen to me, little girl. You're still not forgiven for leaving. I left you explicit instructions to be at school today with a smile on your face, to show the Cullens that their suspicions were wrong. Did you or did you not remember what I told you?"

"I remembered," Bella whispered.

"Then tell me why I got a call from your school today, informing me that you weren't there? And why, when I called Billy, he said that Jacob wasn't at school either?"

"Jacob hardly ever goes to school, and Billy doesn't care," Bella whispered. She knew her poor attempt at distraction wouldn't keep her safe long, but she didn't quite know yet what to do when Charlie demanded to know where she'd been today. She was a terrible liar, and knew it. They'd managed with the social worker only because her fear worked in her favor. She was so afraid of Charlie's wrath, and that fear was so real, that it disguised the lie in her words. But Charlie was used to seeing her afraid. He would know the instant she lied to him. Which meant she had a choice: either tell the truth about what she'd done, or refuse to give him an explanation. Both would make him irate. Bella had no idea which route was safest.

"I don't give a fuck about Jacob's school habits," Charlie said, and he reached forward and grabbed her face roughly, forcing her to look up at him. "You tell me now, girl! Where were you today, and what did you do?"

Staring into Charlie's black eyes was the most frightening thing Bella had ever done. She swallowed thickly, and made her choice. Lying wouldn't help her, and refusing to tell would only prolong the inevitable. Mason was safe with the Cullens, and the paperwork was signed by a judge. Charlie couldn't do anything to him now. Still trembling, she pulled her head free, feeling where his fingers had pressed so hard that they left little red throbbing marks. Gathering up every last bit of courage she could muster, she stared at Charlie and said, quietly, "I went to Olympia."

"Oh? And what, may I ask, did you do there?" His voice was quietly mocking, and Bella could see that he saw her as no threat whatsoever.

"I tricked Jake into signing adoption forms," she said, hoping that lying about tricking him was enough to keep him out of trouble. "I saw Mason's social worker, and talked to a judge. He's free."

For a moment it looked as if the chief of police could not process what Bella had said. But then his face turned purple, and Bella felt her body flying as he grabbed her and heaved her across the room. She crashed into the little dining table, and an edge hit her back. Air whooshed out of her lungs, and her entire body lit with pain. She collapsed, gasping, only to find herself hoisted to her feet as Charlie grabbed her shirt and hauled her up. "Where is he?" he demanded, and flecks of saliva flew from his mouth onto her face. She winced as he shook her harshly, her head snapping back and forth. "What did you do with that little bastard?"

"He's safe," she repeated through gritted teeth.

Charlie swore and dropped her. Bella fell to the floor again, her legs unable to support her weight. She attempted to crawl away, but before she could do more than try to struggle to her knees, Charlie's booted foot connected with her leg. She cried out, dropping and curling around herself, tucking her head as close to her stomach as she could get, using her arms to protect the most vital parts of her body. He kicked her shin, then turned and landed several hard kicks to her already-injured backside. She yelled as the violent meeting of boot with flesh tore open scabs, and she felt hot blood begin to slowly seep again. Charlie kept up a string of curses as he grabbed her hair and pulled hard.

Bella forced herself to follow him, to avoid her hair being torn from her scalp. He hauled her back into the garage and dropped her to the cold cement floor. Still swearing about how ungrateful she was, Charlie cleared off a bottom storage shelf by throwing everything out of his way. He grabbed a hammer and some nails and scrap pieces of plywood and hammered the wood to the sides of the shelf, creating a dark little cubby only open on the front. Charlie scrabbled around for the handcuffs that had been left in the garage, but he couldn't find them. Still swearing, he pulled another set from his jacket and locked Bella's hands behind her back again.

Bella stared at the tiny cubby made with the plywood and shelf. It didn't look big enough for her to fit in there, but she had no idea what else he might try to do with it. And sure enough, he grabbed her shoulder and forced her closer.

"No, Charlie," she whimpered, not sure how she was ever going to fit in there. "I won't fit!"

"I'll make you," he replied, his voice clipped, and he tried to shove her inside. Bella's ankle scraped painfully along the unfinished edge of plywood, and she hissed as he forced her in on her knees. She had to bend down, stretching her shoulders painfully and knocking her fingers against the top of the low box. Even then her bare feet didn't fit, and Charlie shoved at them, breaking open the thin skin around her ankles as he forced her into the cubby. She whimpered, her box almost too tight for her to breathe as she huddled inside at a strange angle. Her head was twisted to the side and she couldn't straighten her neck; already she felt pain lancing through her tendons as her muscles were stretched and bunched in ways they were not meant to. Her back was forced hard against the ceiling of the box, and she could feel each individual stinging scrape along the knobs of her spine.

"Now," Charlie said, breathing heavily from the exertion and leaning on a bigger piece of plywood, "you are staying in there until you decide to tell me where that bastard of yours is, and you agree to fix it so I get him back."

"You can't!" Bella whimpered. "He's already been adopted!"

Charlie kicked her in the side, shoving his foot into her cubby and forcing her painfully against the back of it. "How very unfortunate for you, then." And he took the bigger piece of plywood, blocking off the opening. Bella breathed heavily, perilously close to hyperventilating as the light disappeared and she heard the dull thud of Charlie's hammer strokes vibrating through her prison. Nobody knew where she was. Nobody cared. The Cullens would never see her again, but neither would they come looking. They had Mason to care for, now.

But at least he was safe, she tried to tell herself.

It was small comfort as Charlie left the garage and the darkness and quiet set in.

* * *

Edward glared at the little white house. He'd snuck to the front windows and peered inside, and saw Charlie on the couch, fully engrossed in a basketball game. That was two hours ago, and Charlie had yet to either fall asleep in place or go upstairs to bed. If Edward had still been human, he knew he'd nearly have a heart attack by now. From outside he could not be entirely sure whether Bella was in that house, and the suspense was slowly killing him. He needed to see her, to touch her, to hear her heartbeat and know that she was okay. Nothing else mattered. Only his deep respect for Carlisle held him in place, waiting until the fucking chief of police fell asleep before breaking into that damnable house once again.

Bella's secret had unnerved him, yes, but it hadn't altered his feelings for her. If anything, it made them stronger. She was so afraid and yet so courageous, and it made his silent heart constrict painfully when he thought about how terrified his sweet girl must have been to stand up to her father like she had. Charlie would not be pleased when he learned what she had done, if he hadn't learned it already. The thought that he could have already punished her and Bella lay somewhere in that house, hurt and alone, almost pulled Edward from his spot. But there was nothing he could do until Charlie fell asleep. He just couldn't risk exposing his family's secret, no matter what. Though it was useless, he wished he had Jasper's skill right about now. A wave of contentment would be just the ticket to make Charlie sleep. But, then, Edward supposed that he probably would be unable to dredge up enough happy feelings to complete the task. Not the way he was feeling right now.

And the...baby? Edward really didn't know what to think about that. He believed Bella when she said she didn't want it and couldn't deal with the pressure of raising a child. She was a careful, responsible, loving young girl, but it was just asking too much of her to expect her to be saddled the rest of her life with the product of a brutal attack. He swallowed angrily, forcing venom into his stomach. Just the thought of someone touching Bella against her will made the poison flow, made the monster inside him scream for revenge. He couldn't get the picture out of his mind of Bella, his sweet Bella, on a hotel bed, crying for a faceless man to stop, just stop, and let her be.

It wasn't fair. Edward had known for a very long time that the world was an unfair place, and he didn't even try to understand it anymore. But, christ, this was too much. Way, way too much for any one person to handle on her own, and it just wasn't fair. If it were up to him, he'd probably give the baby back to the state. Tell them to find it another home, one far, far away from Bella, where she would never have to see it or be reminded of her horrific ordeal ever again. But it wasn't up to him. It was up to Bella, and it seemed that she'd made her choice. While she was realistic enough to understand that she just couldn't raise it, she'd given the baby to Rosalie.

Under any other circumstances, with any other birth mother, Edward would have been thrilled for Emmett and Rose. Rose ached for a child so badly; it was the one thing she regretted most about what they were. While many things were difficult about the change, this one was the hardest for her - and for Esme, too, though he knew his adopted mother would never admit it. They were caretakers. They wanted children. The gift of a baby was the greatest, most momentous thing anyone could ever give them. And normally Edward would be overjoyed that someone in his loving family got exactly what she wanted.

But not at the cost of Bella. The price was just too, too high. And because Bella felt the way she did, Edward didn't know if he would ever be able to look at the baby without anger and blame. His head understood that Bella's pain was no fault of the child's. He understood that intellectually. But he could not look at the little boy - the little boy who looked and smelled nothing like his mother - without picturing the man who violently attacked the love of Edward's life. His mate. His reason for existing.

Her words to him in that letter cut him to the quick. For the first time, she'd admitted that she loved him. Those words...they cast a bright, glittering light through the darkness of his world. Bella loved him. He had wondered a little bit, while he was with her. Certainly she seemed to like him well enough - she enjoyed talking with him, and listening to him play the piano. When she was afraid, it was his arms she sought. But until he heard Esme read those words, he hadn't been entirely sure whether this was actually love on her part. Now he knew. And he wasn't going to stop until she was safe in his arms again.

Finally the light in Charlie's living room flicked off. Edward waited impatiently as he saw an upstairs light turn on. He hoped the police chief would forgo a shower and just go to bed. Was that so much to ask? He bounced on his toes a little, adrenaline filling his system. He knew he'd have to wait a reasonable time for Charlie to fall asleep, but he just couldn't stand the tension. Edward reminded himself that it was possible Bella wasn't in the house at all but back on the damnable reservation, though he doubted it. His heart told him that she was here.

Edward had a plan this time, and he swore that absolutely nothing was going to sway him from his objective. He was rescuing Bella from her father and getting her the hell out of here. And no one else was coming with them. Esme would be sad and Carlisle angry, he figured, but his family was busy with the baby. And Rose had clearly gone to join Carlisle's camp when it came to Bella, which meant that their temporary truce was over. He wasn't sharing any more of his thoughts and plans with her, and she wasn't coming with him when he spirited Bella away. He also had decided not to use any of the suggestions they'd come up with during their last secret meeting. None of them were safe now, since Rose knew they were possibilities. Edward steeled his jaw, creeping closer to the house, waiting for Charlie's bedroom light to blink off. He wasn't taking Bella to Alaska, or Switzerland, or Isle Esme. He was getting her the hell out of the country, and he wasn't telling anyone where they were going.

Of course, there was always Alice's visions to contend with. But little Alice, one of the two newest members of his family, had never visited the Cullen residence Edward had chosen. The combination of that and Alice's difficulty seeing Bella, he hoped, would make it that much more difficult for anyone to find him.

Finally. Charlie's light flicked off, and Edward breathed a sigh of relief. He'd give the police chief ten minutes to fall asleep and then he was breaking into the house to find Bella, caution be damned.

Edward's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he grimaced, hoping it wasn't Alice on the other end of the line. He glanced at the screen and relaxed. It was just the shady pilot he'd bribed to take them on the first leg of their flight.

"Yeah?" he said, glancing at his watch. Eight minutes.

"Just checking that everything's still a go for tonight," the man said quickly, greed evident in his tone.

"Yes," Edward said. "I'm picking up the cargo now."

"Can I ask what it is?" The pilot cleared his throat and spat; in his voice Edward heard long years of nicotine addiction. "Not that I'm judging, mind. Just interested."

"Only passengers," Edward said tightly. Seven minutes.

The pilot laughed. "Lemme guess. 'Myself, the boy, two droids'?" he quoted.

Edward grimaced. He'd walked right into that one, but he was in no mood for jokes. "No. Me and one other person - a girl. She'll be asleep."

"Hey," the pilot said quickly, "hey, now. I'm a smuggler, and I'll admit to that. But I don't get mixed up in no human trafficking shit. Not even for what you're paying me."

"It's not human trafficking," Edward said. "What do I look like? It's my sister. She's running away from an abusive boyfriend, and I'd do anything to help her." The last part was true enough, and Edward knew he was an excellent liar anyway. His smooth voice and ready cash assured this man's assistance. "She asked to be sedated during the flight because she gets awful airsickness. Unless you want her vomiting all over your plane?"

"No, no," the pilot said quickly, "that's fine. Just checking. You never know what kind of people you're dealing with these days, and all. Can't be too careful."

Edward had to bite back a dark chuckle. This man had absolutely no idea who - or what - he was dealing with. He stared at the second hand on his watch ticking off the moments. Four minutes.

"So...the agreement is the same?" the man asked. "Twenty-five thousand?"

"Yes," Edward said calmly. "One quarter up front, and the rest will be waiting in my vehicle when we reach New Jersey."

"Don't trust me?"

"Can't be too careful," Edward sneered, throwing the man's words back at him.

"Right, right." The man sighed wistfully. "When can I expect you?"

"An hour, give or take," Edward said, wishing he'd hurry up. Two minutes.

"Right-o. You're the boss."

The phone clicked off. Edward shoved it in his pocket and moved on silent feet toward Charlie's house. He still had a minute left on the clock, but he wasn't waiting any longer. He eyed the shabby edifice, wondering about the best way to get in. The lock on the garage door would be easy to break, but those vertical doors made a lot of noise. He finally opted to shimmy up his usual tree.

Bella's window was closed and locked, which did not surprise him. He'd told Charlie how he got in the first time, and no doubt the police chief thought he was taking precautions. Edward bit at his left thumbnail until he nibbled a jagged point, then slowly used the diamond-hard edge to cut a perfect circle in Bella's window. He eased the glass out, wedging it into a crook of the tree, and then carefully reached inside, unlatching the lock and raising the window. He could easily have forced the window open and broken the lock, but he wasn't entirely sure Charlie was asleep and he didn't want any actual, incontrovertible proof that it was he who stole Bella.

Sliding in, Edward took a deep breath as he had the last time he searched for his love in this abominable house. She'd been in her room this time, that much was clear, though she was not there now. He carefully stole down the hall, breathing deeply, and descended the stairs.

Bella's scent was strong in the kitchen. Edward wrinkled his nose at the smelly, abandoned remains of a fish on the counter. Had she been interrupted during preparation of a meal? By what?

The godawful sound of Charlie snoring started upstairs, and Edward grimaced. In all likelihood, it was Charlie who disturbed her. With a sinking feeling, Edward tried the door to the garage.

Yes, Bella was here. He could smell both the living scent of her - so warm, so vivid - and the smell of her fear. He smelled fresh blood, too, but not too much. Anger roiled in his stomach, though he knew she was probably all right at least as far as that went. He could tend her wounds on the airplane.

But where was she? The garage was dark, too dark even for his vampire eyes. He closed the door quietly behind him, shutting him in total darkness, and fumbled for a lightswitch.

When the single hanging bulb flicked on, Edward blinked. He was alone, it seemed. He frowned. Taking a chance, he stepped forward slightly and whispered, "Bella?"

There it was - her heartbeat sped up until it was almost humming, and he heard the little catch of a soft human breath.

"Bella?" he asked again, murmuring the words just a fraction louder. "Bella, baby, it's me, Edward. Where are you, sweet girl?"

"Edward?" Her little voice was so hesitant, and she let out a muffled half-sob. "Is it really you?"

"It's really me, baby," he soothed. "Tell me where you are."

"Behind the plywood," she whimpered, and Edward zoned in on the rough sheet of wood fronting what looked like the bottom of a set of shelves. Yes, her scent pooled in that direction. She was there. He rushed over and dropped to his knees, his fingers finding the edges of the splintery wood. He ripped it away, hearing the protesting squeak of the nails...

...and there she was. He longed to just grab her and haul her into his arms, never letting go. But she was wedged so tightly into the enclosed space that was clearly too small for her, and he didn't know how to get her out of there without hurting her. She was on her knees, her head against her legs and her back pressed tightly against the roof of the box. He growled loudly, his eyes turning black with anger, and clenched his fists tightly to keep from hitting something.

"Bella," he said, fighting back his rage, "god, Bella, I'm so sorry. Sweetheart, can you move?"

She grimaced and tried to wiggle, but her arms were handcuffed behind her back and she was pressed tightly into the box.

"I didn't think anyone was coming," she whispered.

"Bella," he said, stroking her shoulder gently, "I will  _always_  come for you. Always. Now, let's try to get you out of there before Charlie wakes up." He ran a hand down her shoulder to her elbow. "Baby, I don't want to hurt you."

"Just pull," she said, trying to move again but failing. "It's okay. Just get me out of here, please!"

"I'll try to be as gentle as I can," he murmured. He took a breath, steeling himself, and wrapped his hand firmly around her bent elbow. God, he didn't want to hurt her. But they had to get going. His pilot would wait, but he didn't want Bella in this fucking house any longer than she had to be. Nailing her into a tiny box like this was inhuman, and he saw how painfully she was jammed into the too-small space. He adjusted his hand once more, took a breath and held it, and started to pull gently.

The sound of fabric and skin scraping against rough plywood burned into his ears and he almost stopped when Bella hissed in pain, but he forced himself to continue. Working together, they managed to get her head and shoulders free, and then the rest of her warm little body spilled into his arms as she toppled out of the box.

She was crying, and he didn't blame her. He gathered her close, mindful of the myriad scrapes adorning her poor skin. "Bella," he crooned, "my Bella. It's okay. You're safe. I've got you."

"Get the cuffs off," she whimpered, struggling against the restraints on her wrists. "Please, get them off."

Her voice was panicked, and Edward wanted nothing more than to obey. He hated seeing the pain in her eyes, and he also selfishly wanted to feel her warm arms around him once more. But the most important thing now was getting her away from her father's house. "I will," he promised, brushing a hand against her silken cheek. "I will, baby, I promise. But we need to get you out of here. Just hold tight for a couple of minutes, please, and I'll get those cuffs off."

She said nothing, simply buried her head against his shoulder as he lifted her body easily into his arms. It was a little awkward with the handcuffs, but he managed. He slipped into the house again, then threw open the front door and strode to his car. Edward settled her in the passenger seat, not bothering to shut or lock the house door, and quickly started the engine. They peeled out of the gravel driveway and were on the dark road to Port Angeles in a matter of minutes.

Bella sat leaning forward, her hands behind her back, looking so uncomfortable. When Edward felt they were finally far enough away from Charlie's house he pulled onto the side of the dark highway and turned the cabin light on.

"Okay," he said. "Let's get those cuffs off you."

Bella turned eagerly toward the window, giving him access to the handcuffs. He did not miss the hitch in her breath as she moved, and he knew she must be in pain. Soon, he thought, soon they would be at their destination and he would be able to take care of her properly. He touched the cold metal cuffs, testing their strength. They were locked tightly around her wrists, cutting into the raw, already-hurt flesh.

"Do you have a key?" Bella asked, trying to turn her head to see him.

"No." He sighed. There was only one thing he knew for sure would work, and while he didn't want to do it, he also didn't have much choice. Charlie could wake and find Bella gone at any minute, and while he wasn't horribly worried about his hired plane waiting at the tiny Port Angeles airport, the guy wouldn't hang around forever. They needed to get Bella's cuffs off  _now_. "Bella, baby, listen to me. I read your letter. I know you know what I am."

She said nothing; her only response was to drop her head a little.

"I need to know if you trust me."

Bella blinked. How could he possibly ask her that, after everything he'd done for her? "Of course I trust you," she whispered. "With my life."

"All right." He took another breath, hating what he had to do. "Bella, I need you to hold very still. As still as you possibly can. Your life depends on it."

She froze instantly, and Edward slid his hands around hers, lifting them a little ways, as carefully as he could. She whimpered after a few inches, and Edward rubbed her tense fingers gently. The smell of blood from her hurt wrists had awakened the hungry monster within him, and he was very nervous as he moved his mouth closer to her skin. This was a very dangerous stunt, but he didn't have a choice.

"You can bend forward," he breathed. "I'm so, so sorry; I don't want to hurt you. I need to be able to reach your wrists with my mouth."

She lowered her head toward her legs willingly, her back bowing and her arms raising a little more. Edward swallowed back venom as he saw the sticky trail of half-congealed blood adhering to her wrists. "Hold still," he murmured, lowering his mouth. "Hold very still."

She was barely breathing as Edward closed his teeth around the cold metal of one cuff. A tremor raced through her, just once, as his hair brushed her arm. He bit down slowly, firmly, the steel handcuff giving like butter against his teeth. Her warm skin was against his lips, and he closed his mouth around the chunk of metal in his mouth as it broke free, the rest of the cuff falling away from her wrist. She gasped at the sensation of his lips against her hurt wrist, and Edward carefully drew away from her skin. She turned toward him, her arms free, the handcuffs still dangling from one wrist, and Edward could do nothing but stare into her big brown eyes.

"Edward..." She blinked, but the tears sparkling in her eyes did not fade.

Edward turned his head and spat the offending piece of metal from his mouth, then wrenched open his car door and threw it as far into the dark woods at the side of the road as he could. He gasped for the clean, wet air untainted by the scent of Bella's blood. Though the traces of blood on the cuff had not been fresh, they still tempted him to the point where he desperately needed a moment to clear his head. The half-congealed substance absolutely melted in his mouth, filling him with hunger, with the knowledge that he had not tasted human blood for decades and a defenseless victim sat inches from him. Bella's blood was the sweetest he'd ever tasted, even stale, and he closed his eyes, wrestling furiously with the monster within. He  _would not_ hurt her. He'd kill himself before he allowed that.

"Edward," she said quietly.

Steeling himself for the smell of her mouthwatering blood, Edward lowered himself back into his seat and turned toward her again. "I'm sorry." He tried to find a smile for her, but only one side of his mouth decided to work. "I just needed a minute."

"You're so strong," she murmured wonderingly, and while the words would sound foolish in just about any other context, Edward understood exactly what she meant.

"You taste so good," he said tightly. "It takes a lot of control."

"I trust you."

Of course she did. Her big innocent eyes said as much, and Edward vowed that he'd do his best to be worthy of that trust. He leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips to her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin, just holding his mouth there for a long moment. "Ready for the last one?" he said finally.

"If you are."

"I'll be okay." He held out his hand, managing a smile this time. Bella placed her cuffed wrist in his grasp, the mangled remains of the first cuff dangling over the center console. "Remember to hold as still as you can."

"I'll try."

He lowered his head again, and couldn't resist brushing a soothing kiss against the back of her hand. The worst scabbing was at the back of her wrist, so he turned her hand gently over, exposing the tender white inside flesh. The soft purple lines of her veins were dangerously tempting, but he hoped this would be better than biting near the open sores and risking exposure to his venom. He had no idea what would happen if a drop accidentally spilled into an open wound. Would that be enough to trigger the change? He didn't know, and didn't want to find out.

Slowly he opened his mouth and took the cuff between his teeth, biting down. Again the metal gave under the pressure of his bite, and he heard Bella sigh in relief as it finally snapped. The remains of the handcuffs fell to the floor of the car and Edward again stood, tossing them into the woods. When he sat down again, Bella snuggled quickly into his side. The console was in the way and Edward wanted to just pull her into his lap and keep her there but the last thing he needed was to get pulled over for unsafe driving on the way to the airport.

"Thank you," she whispered, and he allowed himself another minute to wrap his arms around her, feeling her whole and safe finally. He kissed her hair and felt her burrow further into his embrace.

"God, Bella, you had me so worried," he mumbled into the silk of her long hair.

"I'm sorry," she said, and he heard the tears in her voice that, he knew by now, she was fighting to keep from spilling over. "But I had to - "

"Shh." He kissed her head again, then used two fingers to gently tip her chin up. She gazed at him with her deep eyes, and Edward couldn't help himself. He pressed a kiss to her lips, then another. "There will be time to talk later," he said. "Right now we have a schedule to keep."

"Where are we going?" Bella asked. She did not seem particularly pleased to settle back into her seat, but she obeyed. Edward threw the car into gear, trying not to lose his temper when he heard the little whimper of pain as she sat back.

"We're getting you away from Charlie," Edward said. "Where he can't get to you anymore."

"But where?"

Edward didn't answer. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a little enameled pillbox.

"What's this?"

"It's for the pain," he said, and comforted himself with the thought that it wasn't a complete lie. It was, in fact, a painkiller. The fact that it would knock Bella out - hopefully for the entire trip - was practically only a side effect. "Take one now, and see how you feel. There's juice in the paper bag by your feet."

Bella leaned forward slowly and fished out a bottle of cranberry juice. She tried to open it, but her tired, shaking hands couldn't snap the safety seal. Edward crooked a commiserating smile at her and took his hands off the wheel long enough to open the bottle.

"Thanks," she whispered. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so tired or so relieved in her life. She didn't know how long she'd been nailed in that tiny box in the garage - hours at least. Time lost meaning when there was nothing to see, nothing to hear, and the hard slabs of plywood pressed so closely upon her. She had never thought of herself as a particularly claustrophobic person, but that might well change, she thought, after what Charlie had done.

But Edward had saved her, as Edward always seemed to save her. And now they were on the road, in his silver Volvo, and her eyes were full of his pale, unearthly beauty. He kept glancing between her face and the road as she willingly swallowed a little white pill and then downed half the bottle of juice. The sweet-tart bite of cranberry tasted so good, and her stomach rumbled, reminding her that the last time she'd actually eaten had been...when? Back at the Cullens' house? She couldn't quite remember, but she thought so.

"The food is for you, too," Edward said gently, and Bella fished in the bag again, pulling out little baggies of carrots and grapes and crackers and cheese. "I didn't know whether starving you was part of a punishment," he said, his voice dark with anger, "but I try to plan ahead. Just eat a little bit if it's been a while. Don't make yourself sick."

"I know," Bella said quietly, forcing herself to nibble on a Ritz instead of wolfing down the bag like her stomach begged her to. "I've done this before."

"I'm sure you have," Edward said tightly.

She said nothing more, but placed a trembling hand on his leg as he drove. It felt wonderful to be able to reach out and touch him; like a dream. She honestly had never expected to be able to do this ever again. She thought perhaps she'd see him in school now and then, from a distance, if Charlie let her live. But being this close to him, her lips still tingling from his gentle kiss, her hand on his leg? No, she hadn't figured on this ever happening again.

He dropped his cold hand and closed it over hers, holding it gently. "God, Bella," he said quietly, and she could do nothing but nod. What else was there to say? They were together again, and for the moment nothing else mattered. Edward was right. There would be time to talk later. Right now, she just wanted to relish his nearness and believe that everything really would be all right. As the adrenaline of the escape swept out of her system, she felt a sudden, intense weariness take hold. Vaguely she wondered if this was a side effect of that pill. She had no idea what Edward had given her, but she trusted him. He'd rescued her, and she trusted him. With a small sigh of contentment she rested her head against his firm shoulder, sleep dragging her under.

A grape rolled out of Bella's hand and Edward bit back a smile as he felt her breathing shift quickly into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. They were halfway to Port Angeles and the meds had taken effect quickly. Probably because she'd had no food in her stomach. He growled, anger at Charlie Swan growing again. Bella sighed against his shoulder.

God, he felt so guilty for what he was doing. Not guilty enough to stop him from doing it, but guilty nonetheless. Bella was going to be furious when she woke. But he wasn't willing to play games anymore - not with her safety on the line. The rest of his family could sit at home and make fruitless phone calls to the state while they cooed over the baby, but he wasn't going to forget the most important part of this equation: Bella. She needed someone to keep her safe from her father since she wasn't able or willing to do it herself. Her lack of self-preservation instincts was truly mind-blowing...and upsetting. Intensely upsetting. Edward glanced at her sleeping face. She looked so peaceful nestled against his shoulder. He turned the heat up in the car a little more, angling the vents to blow on Bella. He couldn't take stock of her wounds while they drove, but he was going to make damn well sure she was as comfortable as he could make her.

* * *

Rosalie laughed as Emmett marched downstairs as if ready for battle, a pair of bright orange construction earplugs squashed into his ears. On top of these he clapped a pair of pink fuzzy earmuffs, courtesy of Alice. On his hands he wore pink dishwashing gloves.

"Em, it's really not that bad," she said, turning on the water in the deep porcelain kitchen sink. She plugged the drain and let the warm water run. They'd learned quickly that Mason was terrified of water and hated baths, but he was also a pro at getting dirty and sticky, so they were an unfortunate necessity. Rose had no idea how often parents typically bathed babies, but Mason needed a good scrub-down almost every day.

Okay, she revised, so maybe that was a little bit of an overstatement. Today was day three of Life With Baby, and Mason was getting bath number two. That maybe wasn't quite enough to make a definitive statement about yet.

Esme drifted into the kitchen with Mason in her arms. She had fallen in love with him just as Rose had, but Rosalie knew perfectly well that Esme's primary worry was Mason's birth mother. Edward left the house with Bella's things the day Mason arrived, and neither of them had been seen since. Charlie had not yet made a big deal about his daughter's disappearance, but Rose understood that it was because most of the Cullens were still in town. He didn't know Edward was missing. Alice told them all firmly that they were not allowed to go off searching for their wayward siblings right now. If more Cullens disappeared, Charlie would have the police and feds swarming on the family in an instant. So there was nothing they could do except keep trying to call Edward - who wasn't picking up his phone - and wait.

Esme felt the blow the hardest. Rose watched her adopted mother carefully as she handed Mason over to Emmett to bathe. While she was fond of the baby, she missed her son and daughter. Worry lined her face, and Rose didn't need to ask Jasper in order to feel it. Edward could take care of himself, but Esme wanted Bella back. It didn't take an empath to know that.

Carlisle was understandably frustrated by Edward's impulsive actions, but he wasn't as angry as Rose thought he might be. He'd called just about every vampire he knew he could trust, including the Denali coven, to try and track down Edward's whereabouts. No one had seen him. Eleazar sent Irina to check on the Cullen lodge, but she had turned up nothing. No one had been there since they left several years ago.

Rosalie knew Edward wouldn't thank her for it, but she'd admitted to Carlisle and Esme their original plans to spirit Bella away from Forks. After many phone calls, Carlisle decided that it was unlikely Edward had taken Bella to any of the proposed locations. Edward knew how to hide himself - he'd been taught by the best, after all - but that didn't make his disappearance any easier. Appeals to Alice were unhelpful. They'd managed to track down a smuggler with an airplane who admitted to taking two teenagers that matched Edward and Bella's description to New Jersey, but from there he didn't know where they'd gone. No one else seemed to, either. The trail went cold. Rose bet anything that Edward had intended exactly that.

A piercing scream alerted Rosalie to Mason's bath time, and she grinned as she watched him struggle with Emmett. He wasn't crawling yet, but he had learned to prop himself up on his hands and pull himself along, rather like a little seal pup. He was attempting to do exactly that now, while Emmett struggled to get him out of his onesie and diaper. But Mason was no fool. He knew perfectly well what that diabolical sink of water meant.

And Rosalie absolutely could not feel gloomy when she saw Emmett interacting with the baby. Together they'd quickly become her everything, her world. She worried about Bella still, but there was nothing she could do at the moment but hope Edward was taking care of her. And plan on beating him to a mushy pulp whenever she saw him again, of course.

When Mason's desperate screeches grew too high-pitched to laugh about any longer, Rose stepped in to rescue her husband. She deftly picked up the struggling baby and held him firmly around the torso.

"Get his top half out of the onesie," she ordered gently, laughing a little.

"What?" Emmett hollered, cupping a hand around his muffed ear.

Rose rolled her eyes. " _Honestly_ ," she said.

"Need a hand?" Esme stepped in and stripped the wiggling infant, her hands working smoothly.

"Thanks." Rose grinned and handed the naked baby back to Emmett. "Here you go, dad."

He stuck his tongue out at her and plunked Mason in the sink. There was only a couple of inches of warm water in there, but Mason's shrieks grew impossibly louder and he immediately tried to climb out again.

"No you don't, little dude," Emmett said, and he dumped a giant handful of all-in-one baby wash on Mason, rubbing the gentle soap into his skin and hair. He started to sing, loud and off-key because he couldn't hear himself. The sound mixed with Mason's wails, and Rose and Esme immediately retreated to the living room.

"I wish she were here," Esme said quietly, staring wistfully out the window. "Mason's such a beautiful little boy. I want to tell her how proud I am of her, and her son."

 _My son_ , Rose thought automatically before she could help it.

"Splish splash, I was taking a bath," Emmett sang from the kitchen. "Something...something...Saturday night!"

Esme snorted quietly. "God knows how that baby boy is going to turn out with Emmett for a father."

"No worries, we've got it covered," Alice said brightly, prancing into the room. "We already bought him toy cars for every stage of development. Little plush ones, and Tonka trucks, and Hot Wheels..."

"What does that have to do with Emmett's parenting?"

"Well, Rose insisted!"

"What?" Rose asked defensively. "What's wrong with toy cars? You can't be a Cullen and not like cars."

"Point," Jasper agreed. He was attached to the pinball machine that was ostensibly Bella's but the boys had claimed. Rosalie had even caught them lecturing to Mason on the finer points of pinball strategy as he sat on the glass top and watched the lights blink as Emmett played.

"Splish splash, forgot about the bath," Emmett sang, a little truer to pitch now, and he entered the living room with a grumpy but quiet baby in his arms, wrapped in a hooded towel that looked like a frog. "Cuz how was I to know there was a party going on?" He dipped Mason, jitterbugging a little.

"Let me dance him!" Alice demanded, swiping the baby from Emmett and twirling around.

"Careful," Rose warned, "he just ate before his bath."

"Not it," Jasper and Emmett said at almost the same time as Alice quickly stopped spinning Mason in circles. Everyone watched him carefully. After a moment he burped, but did not seem inclined to spit up. Alice sighed in relief.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Everyone tensed automatically. Carlisle came quickly down the stairs as the entire family gazed warily at one another. Rose took Mason from Alice, holding him tightly in her arms. He lay his damp little head on her shoulder, and Rose knew that there was no way she was letting anyone hurt this child or take him from her. She stepped away from the door, moving toward the kitchen where she could not be seen.

"It's not the chief," Alice said as the doorbell rang again. "He decided to get drunk with some buddies tonight."

Carlisle glanced at his family once more, then moved to open the door.

On the other side stood a human woman with sandy blond hair pulled back in a bun. She smiled pleasantly. "Dr. Cullen, I presume?"

"Yes," he replied, shaking the hand she offered.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," she said. "I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, very sorry. But I was in the area and I wanted to stop by and see how things were working out with Mason. I'm Heidi, his social worker."

Carlisle relaxed and smiled at the woman. He opened the door a little wider and motioned for her to come inside. "Please, by all means," he said. "You're more than welcome. I'm, ah, glad to finally meet you."

"Yes," she agreed, following him into the living room, where the rest of the family waited. "Well, it was an unusual case, but once we saw your name we knew the baby would have a good home. I must say, we were surprised to see Isabella appear out of nowhere on our doorstep, though. Almost like a little waif."

Carlisle hid a smile. Bella had that effect on people, it seemed. "Please, meet my family. My wife Esme, and our other children. Emmett, Alice, Jasper." He turned toward the kitchen. "Rose? Is Mason done with his bath?"

Rosalie cautiously moved back into the family room, Mason now dressed in a clean onesie. She held him close and eyed the strange woman, though she'd heard the entire conversation.

"And Rosalie, and little Mason," Carlisle said, smiling reassuringly at her. "The girls have really taken to the baby. It's hard to find time to give him a cuddle myself, I must say."

"That's how it always is with big sisters," Heidi said with a smile. She looked at Mason, but did not attempt to touch him. "But didn't you have one more teenager? Forgive me, but I thought there were five."

"Yes," Carlisle agreed. "Edward is at basketball practice until late tonight," he improvised. "Very dedicated to the team."

Alice had to stifle a snort, turning it into a cough. Edward was many things, but a team player wasn't one of them.

"Was there anything specific you wanted to know about the baby?" Esme asked quickly. "He's been eating well, and seems at home with the rest of the family. He doesn't much like baths, but he naps quietly. He's a dream."

"Good, good." Heidi shifted nervously, and every Cullen caught it. "I was actually wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions about Bella."

Carlisle let out a long breath. Was this finally happening? Now that Edward had whisked Bella off to god knew where, was the state actually going to pay attention to their constant phone calls? "Yes," he said. "But this might take a while. Why don't we have a seat?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella woke up in Edward's arms. She smiled slowly, sleepily, and turned more fully toward him as he carried her. She rubbed her nose against his throat and felt his arms tighten around her for a moment, acknowledging that she was awake. This was possibly the best way to wake up ever, she thought, not even bothering to open her eyes. Her body felt fuzzy and loose - a result of the painkillers that had absolutely knocked her out, she was sure, but she didn't care what had made her feel all warm and relaxed. All she could do was smile and hold Edward's firm, cool body close to her own. She rubbed idle fingers against his upper back, tracing the line of his t-shirt collar. Moving her head, she sleepily kissed his neck.

"Bella, sweetheart," he said tightly, "if you keep doing that, we're never going to get anywhere."

She only smiled more before pressing her lips to his skin again. A tremor ran through him, and she nuzzled his throat.

"I mean it, sweetheart," he said, though his voice was gentle and fond. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Tell me, then," she mumbled.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating deliciously through Bella's body. "Love, I will tell you, I will show you, I will never let you go again. But can we get up the stairs first, please?"

"Kay." She relaxed further against him, feeling his cold body begin to slowly wake her up a little more. "Mmm..." she couldn't help saying, holding him tightly. As far as she was concerned, he could hold her like this forever. She never wanted to let him go.

His amused laugh sounded again. "Boy, those meds really did a number on you."

"What'd you give me, anyway?"

He turned his head and kissed her hair. "Cyclobenzaprine," he answered honestly. "It's a muscle relaxant. I hoped it would help if your muscles were sore from being locked in that box."

"Mm. I feel like I don't have any muscles at all."

"That will pass." He kissed her hair again, and Bella heard a door open. Though her eyes were still closed, she saw the light behind her eyelids fade and then brighten again as they stepped through a doorway and then a light was turned on. "I need to check for wounds, sweetheart. Do you want to use the bathroom first?"

"Please."

They moved a few more steps, and Bella reluctantly opened her eyes as Edward slowly set her on her feet. Her bare toes met cold tile, and she blinked in surprise. This was not the bathroom she was used to. Her bathroom in the Cullen house was lovely and grand, but it was nothing like this. She looked around carefully, frowning a little. Why had Edward brought her to a different room?

He only smiled softly when she looked at him, and kissed her forehead. "I'll wait just outside," he said. "Call if you need anything."

Bella eyed the room again. It was big and strange-looking. Her feet shivered against pale green slate, and the walls were lined in some sort of pale tile. The tiles looked hand-cut, the edges ever so slightly irregular. There was a giant claw-foot bathtub, gleaming white, but the rounded edges were covered in a fine layer of dust. Bella wrinkled her nose. She didn't believe for one minute that Esme would allow dust that thick to collect in her house. Perhaps this was Edward's private bathroom, someplace his mother never went?

There was a strange toilet tucked in the far corner, with a dark wooden half-wall giving the semblance of privacy. The clean-water tank was actually mounted up on the wall, higher than Bella's head, and there was a chain to pull rather than a little lever. There was an antique wardrobe, the door ajar, revealing piles of plush towels, and a pedestal sink with an ornate oval mirror above it.

"I don't see a shower," Bella said, looking back at Edward.

"No," he agreed, "no shower, I'm afraid. I can help you with a bath later if you like." He hesitated. "If you trust me to."

One side of her mouth lifted at the hesitancy in his tone as she remembered the last time a bath was brought up between them. "I trust you," she said quietly.

"Do what you need to, then. I'll be waiting just outside."

He left her alone in the strange bathroom, and Bella sighed. She was still feeling fuzzy from the painkiller he'd fed her, and her brain wasn't working at its normal speed. Shaking her head a little to try and clear it, she stumbled forward on unsteady legs and went to use the restroom and wash her hands and face. As her body woke up a little more, she began to feel the myriad aches and pains from her last few encounters with her father. Running warm water across her hands, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was bleary with sleep, her eyes not entirely open. Her neck didn't quite want to straighten, and even with the medicine still in her system she could feel the twinge of pain as she pulled it into place. Her hair was a mess from being slept on, and she wondered for the first time exactly how long she'd been asleep. The drive to the Cullen house from Charlie's wasn't long, especially the way Edward drove. Had he perhaps been moving her from one room to another for some reason when she woke?

Not that it mattered much, she thought. She was back with Edward and his family, with the people she thought she could love more than any others. The people who could keep her safe. The sudden wish for Esme's mothering presence rose up within her, strong and piercing, and Bella grasped the cold porcelain sides of the sink, closing her eyes tightly. Why hadn't Esme come to see that she was all right? Maybe she was away, at work or shopping. Slowly Bella let herself relax again. She felt sure Esme would come when she could. Rose, too, if she wasn't too wrapped up with caring for the baby.

The sudden realization hit Bella that she and Mason were in all likelihood in the same house. She froze, listening, but heard no sound anywhere. No giggles from Alice, and no baby crying. She didn't know how she felt about trying to live with Mason, even if he were in Rose's care. When she gave him to the Cullens, she had not expected to ever really see them again. But what would happen now?

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her troubled thoughts. "Bella?" Edward's voice was muffled by the door, but his concerned tone made her smile. "Are you all right?"

"Coming," she said, and she made her way on stiff, wobbly legs to the door.

He swept her into his arms as soon as she reached him, and she giggled as he carried her to the bed and lay her carefully down. But the muscle relaxer he'd given her did nothing to soothe the pain in her skin, and she hissed as her rear and the back of her thighs came in contact with the bed. It didn't hurt quite as much as sitting on the toilet, but it still hurt.

Immediately she was in Edward's arms again, and he held her carefully behind her knees and around her back. "What hurts, sweetheart?" he asked, pain in his voice.

She shook her head, burrowing into his side as heat flamed in her cheeks. She didn't know how to explain to him; the words were too embarrassing to say.

"Would it be better to rest on your stomach?" he asked carefully.

Bella nodded and felt his kiss in her hair.

"Okay. I'm going to lay you on your side, then, and help you roll. I'll try to be as gentle as I can."

He lowered her to the bed again, tipping her away from his body before her butt touched the comforter, and she spilled out of his arms and onto her side. She rolled onto her stomach, feeling her sore muscles quiver and relax. Edward stroked her hair and rubbed her shoulder sympathetically, and Bella slowly turned her head to look at him. Even through the painkiller she felt the soreness of her muscles, and pain lanced across her skin, burning where her father's studded belt had struck her. She'd made it through the day in Jacob's car by sheer force of will, her only focus on getting Mason to a safe place where Charlie could never hurt him. But now that she was also safe, safe with Edward, she let the facade collapse and several tears spill from her eyes.

"It hurts," she whimpered. She saw the echoing pain in Edward's eyes and hated it, but she was too tired to hide her hurts anymore.

"I know," he said, his voice infinitely gentle. "I know, baby, and I am so, so sorry that this happened to you. But I'll do my best to care for you now. Let's start at one end and work our way to the other, okay? Do you want to start with your head or your feet?"

"Where's Carlisle?" Bella asked. "Why isn't he doing this?"

"He's not here," Edward replied, his voice still soothing and gentle. "I've been to medical school, though. I can take care of you."

"I believe you," Bella said quietly. She was a little disappointed that Carlisle was at work instead of at home. She trusted Edward's skill, but would have been glad of his father's professional detachment. There was just no way Edward could look at what had been done to her with any sort of objectivity. "Just...please, try not to get mad?" She swallowed. She knew her vampire lover was quick to anger, but she just didn't know if she could handle it right now. "Please? It scares me," she finished in a whisper.

His face contorted with even more pain, if that were possible, and Bella flinched a little. It hurt something in her heart to see him like this. "I'll do my best," he said. "I hate to scare you."

"I know you do."

He started with her head, easing his cold fingers through her hair, seeking any tender spots on her scalp. It felt amazing, his fingertips gently massaging as they worked, and Bella relaxed a little bit, letting her eyes flutter closed and a small smile flit across her face. He unerringly found the spot that had been hurt almost a week ago now, but it had healed well and caused her no trouble. Her scalp in general was a little sore from Charlie pulling at her hair, but Edward's cool hands were soothing. He stroked slowly down her neck and shoulders, rubbing her tense muscles. "The bruise on your cheek healed well," he murmured, running light fingertips across her face. She smiled, and kissed him when his hand neared her mouth. "Does anything on your head hurt at all?"

"Not really," she said, closing her eyes again.

"You sure? Now's the time to tell me."

"I'm sure."

"All right, then." Edward rubbed her shoulder. "I can feel how unhappy the muscles in your neck and shoulders are. Can you tell me what else he did, besides stuffing you in that damnable cubby?"

Bella sighed. She knew the question was coming, but that didn't make it any easier to answer. "He punished me for running away," she said quietly. "Handcuffed my hands behind my back and pulled them up with a rope, then left me there all night."

She heard Edward's low, angry growl, though his hands kneading her sore muscles were still gentle. "Anything else?"

"You'll see," Bella sighed. She wanted to be able to tell him, she really did, because she hated feeling so powerless. But she just couldn't make her mouth form the words. Besides, it was true. He  _would_  see, soon enough.

He did not respond in words, but his hands drifted to the hem of her shirt. "I'm going to need your help with this," he said, "but I want you to move as little as possible. Don't hurt yourself."

Bella obeyed, holding still as his hands ghosted up her sides, taking her shirt with them. She rolled toward one side as he helped her out of the opposite sleeve, then the collar, and he finally drew the shirt completely off. She heard his low hiss as he saw the topmost wounds that adorned her lower back, and she wondered what they looked like. From the way they felt, she thought they must look awful. Everywhere the leather belt had hit burned and throbbed, and the open wounds the metal studs had made ached and stung.

"Oh, Bella..." he whispered, so quietly that she almost didn't hear it.

She wanted to say something light, to tell him that it looked worse than it was, but it wasn't the truth and she couldn't make herself do it. "It hurts," she admitted again.

"Of course it does, love. How could it not?" He traced a line across her skin near her topmost wounds, horror filling him as he stared at what her father had done. Edward had no idea how anyone could harm someone as beautiful and gentle as Bella, let alone her own father. Pain twisted in his gut as he stared at the awful red marks, pocked here and there with dark scabs where something had pierced her skin. This had been a punishment for running away, she had said. Her father had done this to her because Edward took her away. Guilt washed over him, thick and heavy. His actions had caused these marks on his girl's perfect skin. "What did this?" he whispered, wanting to know and yet afraid of the answer.

"A belt," she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. "A studded belt."

Edward wanted to be sick.

There was nothing he could do, though, except what he had set out to do - treat her wounds, and help her heal as much as possible. He touched her skin again and steeled himself mentally for what he had to do. He started with her shoulders, doing his best to ignore the wounds lower down as he assessed the wellness of her muscles, taking stock of her bruises and scrapes.

"I have some antiseptic for the plywood scrapes," he said. "This may feel a little cold."

"Cold is good," Bella replied, and her eyes flicked open, meeting with his. Edward couldn't believe the hint of a smile he saw adorning her perfect pink lips. Though there was pain in her eyes, she was still able to tease. She was such a strong person, and he marveled at her courage. Slowly he brought a dripping cotton ball to her skin, dabbing gently at the first scrape on her back. They formed a grotesquely perfect line down her spine, where the protrusions of bone along her thin back had scraped the top of her box. She flinched when the cold liquid touched her skin, and Edward watched the wet cotton turn pink as he gently dabbed the wound. In this instance, even Bella's sweet blood held absolutely no attraction for him. She was hurting, and he felt compelled to help her. The need to help, to stop the pain, overrode any bloodlust he might have felt.

Slowly he worked his way down her back, cleaning each scrape he found. He kissed next to every wound before he touched it with a damp cotton ball, trying to soothe even as he fixed. The antiseptic contained a small amount of lidocaine, which would help with the stinging pain of the abrasions at least for a while.

But finally there was no stalling left to do, and Edward found his hands hovering at the waistband of Bella's jeans. "Sweetheart," he said quietly, "I want to get you out of your jeans so I can see the full extent of the belt wounds before I start treating them."

She sighed, and he could hear in that one sound how much she did not want to be doing this. He wished there was something he could do to save her the embarrassment, but they were alone in this house and there was nothing he could do, no one he could call. Even if he were willing to entrust her to the care of a local doctor, there would be questions. And questions were the last thing he needed right now.

Bella slowly raised her hips from the bed, whimpering a little, and he watched her reach a hand underneath to undo the button and slide down the zipper. He put his hands at her hips, being as gentle as possible as he slid her jeans and underwear from her body. He dropped them to the floor before turning back to her, and it was only then that the full horror of what had happened to her was revealed.

From the middle of her back to the middle of her thighs, she was striped with awful red lash marks. One even curled around her side, and he winced as he thought about studded leather connecting with that tender, delicate flesh. "Oh, Bella..." he whispered again, not knowing what else he could possibly say. Anger surged through him in a fierce wave, rage burning in his eyes as he stared at the evidence of what her father had done to her. The wide red stripes covered almost the entire expanse of skin, leaving very little of her pale, creamy flesh showing from the middle of her thighs to the small of her back. She tensed as he stared at her - he saw the ripple of movement along her spine, her exhausted, traumatized muscles protesting the involuntary wince.

"Bella, baby," he murmured, "sweetheart, I am so, so sorry. If I'd known - "

"You didn't do it," she said fiercely, her voice firm even though it was muffled by the comforter. "He did. Not you. Please, Edward, it hurts."

Instantly he was in motion again, fishing in his first-aid kit for anything to help her. He had to clean the open sores the metal studs had left, and find something to help with the pain of the welts. Burn cream, he thought, pulling out a little tube of ointment. There was plenty of topical pain reliever in burn cream, and welts like the ones her father had left on her skin were very much like burns. It was the best he could do for now, while her body healed.

"Okay, Bella," he said quietly, pushing back his anger for the millionth time. Once he saw those marks on her skin he knew for sure that he was going to kill Charlie Swan. Nobody did that to his love and lived. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but this is probably going to hurt."

"I know," she said, her small voice resigned. "Just get it over with, please."

"I'll do my best," he promised.

It took a lot of cotton balls to smooth antiseptic over the entire area, but Bella held remarkably still.

"You're doing so well, love," Edward said, rubbing her shoulder gently.

"The cold actually feels good," she mumbled, "even if it does sting."

"Well, this will feel even better, I hope." He showed her the tube of cream before squirting a generous amount onto his fingers. "It should help with the pain, and the heat."

"Are you going to make me take more of those painkillers?" she asked.

"Not if you don't want to," Edward said, beginning to smooth the burn cream across her back. She hissed at the first touch of his hand, and her whole body tensed. He sighed inwardly. This was not how he had imagined his first touch on this particular lush skin would be, his first real glimpse of her unclothed bottom red and inflamed, littered with wounds. If he and Charlie Swan were still on the same continent, the man would be dead. But they weren't, and Edward could do nothing but tend to the aftermath of the man's sadistic temper and hope Bella would be all right. She was obviously not enjoying his touch, and he couldn't blame her. No matter how gentle he tried to be, he was sure it hurt.

"Does that mean you want me to?" she managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"You've absolutely earned never having to do anything you don't want to ever again in your life," he said with a sad little chuckle. "But it  _would_  help you sleep, and sleep is the best thing for you right now. Your body needs to heal."

"I know," she said, and she sighed in relief as the burn cream started to kick in, blessed numbness sweeping across her back and thighs. The tingly numbness felt a little weird, almost like when she slept on her arm and it fell asleep, but she vastly preferred it over the pain. "I just don't like feeling so woozy."

Edward kissed the back of her knee, making tingles of a completely different kind sweep over her body. "We could try a good old antihistamine, if you'd prefer," he said. "It will help you sleep, but it shouldn't make you feel so strange when you wake up."

"All right," Bella agreed. "Although, honestly, I feel like I could sleep for weeks right now."

"You can if you like." He kissed her other knee, his hands busy tending to the deeper abrasion along her anklebone. "There's absolutely nothing stopping you. You deserve whatever you want." He kissed the gentle curve of her calf. "I promise to wake you up every once in a while to swallow some soup, but other than that - " He stopped talking abruptly as his fingers traced along the edges of her ankle wound. There was something lodged in there, under her skin. He swore in his head. Splinters from the plywood. That was the last thing they needed.

"What's wrong?" Bella asked, her voice hesitant.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, reaching reluctantly for the first-aid kit and pulling out a pair of tweezers and some sharp little bathroom scissors. "You've got some wood splinters embedded in your ankle, and we need to get them out."

"Is that what hurts?" She clearly hadn't been lying about being tired - her voice was soft and loose, full of sleep. In any other situation it would have melted him, but he couldn't have her falling back to sleep until he was sure she was as whole and healthy as possible.

"Don't sleep yet, love," he said, rubbing her hand and shaking it a little. "We're not done here, unfortunately."

She yawned and started to stretch, but tensed and hissed abruptly when the movement made her muscles protest. "Shit," she mumbled, and Edward had to chuckle. He thought it might just be the first time he'd heard his girl swear, and it was too, too adorable, even if the context was anything but. And if anyone had ever earned the right to a few bad words, he figured it was Bella. "Don't do anything that's too hard for you," she said, her voice more awake now. "With the blood and all. I can pull out the slivers later."

"I don't want your skin to close over them," he said. "If there's any germs in there, the wound could get infected. I can't risk that."

"Infected? With the amount of antiseptic you're dripping on me?" Bella turned her head and smiled at him. "It'll be okay, Edward. You've already pushed yourself a lot today. Don't make this harder than it has to be for you."

He paused, torn. In truth, her ankle would probably be all right for a day or two, as long as he continued to apply antiseptic every now and then. But there was no telling when Bella's poor, abused body would be able to bend in such a way that she could remove the splinters herself. She was also telling the truth, though - more or less, anyway. The incident with the handcuffs had actually been yesterday - or even the day before, depending on which time zone he went by. But he hadn't hunted since finding her, and he could feel his hunger getting more and more desperate. He needed to feed, and opening Bella's skin now, allowing fresh blood to flow, was not the wisest choice.

"My ankle will be fine, Edward," she pressed, her hand reaching for his. "Promise."

He sighed, and let her win. It wasn't what he wanted, but she was probably right. "You win," he said, putting the instruments back in the kit. "I left the rest of the scrapes open to the air - they're not bad, really, and they'll heal faster uncovered - but I'm going to wrap this one, just in case."

"Kay."

"Then, since you can't lay on your back, we'll have you stand up so I can make sure your front is all right."

"It feels okay," Bella said, sleep stealing back into her voice. "Charlie got one of my hipbones, is the only thing."

"I just want to double-check," Edward said, placing a sterile pad against her ankle wound and wrapping it lightly with gauze. A simple large Band-Aid would probably have sufficed, but he hated the thought of having to rip that adhesive off of Bella's skin later. He didn't know himself, but he'd heard it was painful. "Then I want you to swallow some soup and vitamins so we keep you fed and hydrated, and then you can sleep as long as you like."

"Sleep is good," Bella agreed, rubbing at her eyes as Edward carefully helped her off the bed. She wanted to feel embarrassed as she stood completely naked in front of him for the first time, but she was too tired to dredge up the need to care. Now that the throbbing pain of Charlie's beating was gone, all she wanted to do was sleep. She swayed a little on her feet, watching through half-lidded eyes as Edward inspected her body.

"You're right," he said, his voice tinged with obvious relief as he found nothing except a few bruises and the spot on her hipbone she'd mentioned. She looked down and inspected the wound herself. Charlie had managed through sheer bad luck to land a metal stud right on the protruding knob of her hipbone, and it had split the skin. Around the swollen red mark, which had not yet scabbed over, ran a dark purple-black bruise. It was both disgusting and oddly fascinating to her, and she raised her hand to the aching, throbbing flesh.

"That's the worst one yet," Edward said angrily, but his hands were gentle as he dabbed a wet cotton ball against her skin. "It's already trying to get infected."

"Is that why it hasn't closed over?" Bella asked as the sting of the split skin faded with the application of the antiseptic.

"Mm." Edward switched to the burn cream, smoothing it liberally over the angry red mark where the leather belt had struck her skin. "Probably your jeans rubbing on it caused both problems. We'll have to devise a way around that; your skin needs a chance to scab and heal." He was on his knees in front of her, and he turned his head slowly, kissing her stomach. Bella felt her breathing stop for an instant, and he put a hand on her unhurt hip to steady her. "You may be wearing robes and nightgowns for a while."

"Yuck."

"Better than waiting months for one small wound to heal." Edward kissed just inside the jutting edge of her hipbone, his lips lingering against her skin. Bella's heart stuttered, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

"You can't kiss me like that," she whispered, wishing she could sit down but knowing better than to try. "Not right now."

"I know." Edward sighed. "I just don't seem to have any willpower when it comes to you."

Bella opened her mouth, about to retort that it was a good thing he hadn't tried to extract any splinters if his willpower was so weak, but she quickly swallowed the words. Though they were meant as a joke, she worried he wouldn't take it that way. She knew he was a vampire, and she honestly didn't care. But there was no way to know how  _he_  felt about it without asking, and she wasn't willing to go there yet. Not right now. Not when her body was still full of painkillers and her mind was clouded with sleep.

"All right," Edward said, climbing to his feet. He fetched a Thermos from a nearby table and poured her a mug of something liquid and steaming.

Bella held the warmth of it in her hands, sniffing experimentally. It was just chicken broth with some bits of vegetable, and she sipped gratefully. "You come prepared," she said, smiling at him.

He shook two pills from a multivitamin jar and handed them to her. "I thought you might be tired," he said, "and I didn't want you falling asleep while I went to heat your dinner."

"Are you sure you can't read my mind?"

Edward laughed - a genuine laugh. "No. Now take your vitamins and drink your soup. Did you want that antihistamine, or not?"

"I'd like to try without," Bella said, masking a yawn.

"Whatever you want." Edward watched her drink the rest of the soup, then helped her into bed. Bella was fully aware that this was not her room in the Cullen house, but she didn't care enough to question it. That room had been where she'd listened to two awful voicemails from Charlie, and she rather felt like a change of scenery might be a good thing. Whatever the case, she felt very glad to slip between the cold white sheets, burying herself in softness. Edward helped draw the blankets up around her, and he kissed her temple softly as she settled into the mattress with a contented sigh.

"Remember to stay on your belly, or the hip that isn't hurt," he said, stroking her hair away from her face. "I know you toss in your sleep, but try, okay? I'd hate for you to wake up hurting."

"I'll try," Bella promised, already half asleep.

"Bella, baby, one more thing before you sleep." Edward hesitated. He didn't want to tell her this, but not telling her felt wrong. "I need to go hunt, sweetheart. To keep you safe. There are deer on the property; I won't be gone long."

"You eat - drink - deer?"

He chuckled lightly and kissed her again. "Did you think I ate people? I may be a monster, Bella, but I do try not to commit murder."

"Mm." She snuggled further into the opulent bed. She didn't care what he ate - he was a good person, and nothing she learned about him would change that. "I figured there were enough murderers and rapists walking around that no one would miss."

He snorted. "I did try that for a while, but couldn't ultimately settle my conscience. Besides, if that were the case, my whole family would have devoured Charlie the moment we knew what was going on."

She was more or less asleep now; he could hear the slow, steady rhythm of her heartbeat and breath. "I bet he tastes terrible," she mumbled, and then she was lost to her dreams.

Edward stared at her for several moments longer. Even mostly asleep, she still managed to awe him. God, he loved this girl.

* * *

Esme stepped into the family room with a teak tea tray, her senses on high alert. Carlisle had Mason in his arms and Heidi, the social worker, was watching them with a smile on her face. She didn't seem at all worried about the baby's placement with the family, which relieved Esme's worry some. Still, she wasn't sure how much they should tell her about Bella and her predicament. If they admitted that Jacob Black was not, in fact, Mason's father, would she remove him from the house? Esme glanced toward the stairs, where she knew the rest of the family had gathered, listening in with their superior hearing. What a time for Edward to leave them. They desperately needed his mind-reading ability about now.

Just as she was wishing for Edward, Jasper came gracefully down the stairs and took the tray from her grasp. "Let me get that for you," he said with a conspiratorial smile. "It must be heavy."

"Such polite teens I've never seen," Heidi said, shaking her head with amazement.

"We try," Carlisle said with a smile, bouncing Mason gently on his knee. "There's such a stigma about alternative families, but we do what we can to prove them wrong."

"Alice thought you might want as much knowledge as possible going into this talk," Jasper said swiftly to Esme in a voice the social worker could not hear. "I can't tell you as much as Edward could if he were here, but I can say that at least she seems sincere."

"How can you be sure?" Esme asked worriedly.

"Seeing Carlisle with Mason is keeping her quite happy. She has no worries or doubts regarding our family. All her worries are about Bella, and they're questions, mostly, Suspicions - niggling doubts. My gift can't see more than that, I'm afraid, but I don't think she knows anything about our phone calls. Edward would be able to tell you for sure, but it seems that she came here on her own."

"Bless the state for one conscientious employee, at least," Esme murmured, and she smiled gratefully at her son before he turned from her, walking the tray to the coffee table.

"Would you like me to bring the little guy a bottle before I head upstairs?" Jasper asked in a normal voice. He gave Heidi his best Southern smile, which she couldn't help but return.

"Water would be lovely, thank you." Esme poured the tea. "It's close to his bedtime and I don't want any sugary juice or formula on his teeth."

"No problem." Jasper was in the kitchen and back quickly with the bottle, which he handed to the baby. "Take care, little guy," he said, tapping the baby on the nose, and he disappeared upstairs.

Heidi sat up straight in her chair, leaning forward a little and cupping her mug between her hands. "I know this is a little roundabout," she said, "but nothing to do with this whole arrangement has been typical. I'd like to know what you know about Isabella, and what you think of her. I only saw her for a short time in the hospital when Mason was born, and again the other day. What do you think of her?"

"I love her dearly," Esme said honestly, settling herself next to Carlisle and touching Mason's little hand. He was holding his own bottle but playing with it more than drinking, and one of Carlisle's hands was supporting the end of it, just in case. "We haven't known her that long, now that I think about it, but she is very dear to this family all the same."

"How did you first get to know her?"

"She became friendly with our daughters," Carlisle answered, taking the bottle deftly when Mason abruptly tired of it. "Alice is an outgoing spirit and is friendly with just about everyone, but it was Rosalie who took an interest in Bella specifically."

"Rose is more...selective...in her friendships," Esme added. "Alice has kids in and out of the house all the time, but when Rosalie started talking about a new friend, we took notice." It wasn't strictly true, but there were some things they'd have to fudge in order to explain their interest in Bella Swan. There was no way they could tell the social worker that their daughter had seen visions of this girl before she moved to town.

"Rose was worried about her, you see." Carlisle tickled Mason, who laughed and tried to grab his moving hand.

"Worried how?" Heidi asked, leaning forward.

Carlisle glanced at Esme, who nodded a little and prepared to tell most of the truth. "Rose has some dark events in her past. I know you weren't her social worker so you won't have seen her files, but she was essentially gang-raped in an alley - lured there by a man she thought she could trust."

Heidi shook her head sadly. "It's the sort of story I hear all too much of in my line of work," she said soberly. "Is your daughter getting the help she needs?"

"Yes, thank you," Carlisle replied. "And she's really come out of her shell. But, as my wife said, there will always be a part of her that is...cautious."

"There's a silver lining, though," Esme cut in. "There's abuse in my past as well, and she and I see things that others without that sort of past might miss. Things about other people. Rosalie recognized something in Bella's manner that worried her, and she told me her concerns. We had no proof at that point, and we agreed that the whole family would watch her as best we could, hoping to find a way to help her if she needed help."

"What did you find?"

"More than we bargained for," Carlisle said solemnly. "Rose and Emmett and Edward went for a jog in the woods late one evening - they like to stay in shape, and with their busy schedules they don't have much other time to do it. I insist they go in groups and stay together, and for the most part they obey. This particular night was a wet and windy one, and they found Bella unconscious and alone, dressed only in her underwear."

Heidi blinked several times, and Esme could see her mind whirling, trying to process the unexpected information. "Well, that's just...odd," she said finally. "What did they do?"

"They brought her here and asked me to take a look at her," Carlisle replied. "I did, because the situation was so strange. If Rosalie's suspicion of some sort of abuse was correct, I didn't want her father getting wind of anything. His position in the town, you see, made everything somewhat more problematic than it otherwise would be."

"Yes," Heidi said slowly. "I shouldn't be saying anything about this, but I got a strange feeling from Chief Swan. Not that I saw much of him, but he wouldn't leave his daughter alone to talk to me. Normally we see that with children in trouble with the juvenile authorities, but not a simple case of teenage pregnancy."

"There's a great deal of strangeness about Chief Swan," Esme said tightly. She didn't know that she'd ever felt so angry at one person in her life - not even her ex-husband. He had done vile things to her, but Bella had put up with her father for her entire life. And Esme loved that little girl so much. She doubted there was anything she wouldn't do for her. Right now the best thing to do was to try to talk civilly about their concerns, no matter how difficult it was.

"How so?"

"Bella always seemed so cowed by him, and she wouldn't talk about it." Esme felt her unbeating heart constrict at the memory of that pale young face right before she'd slid into her arms for the first time, cold and damp, Edward looking shocked behind her. Needing comfort of some kind, she reached out and took Mason from Carlisle's arms. The baby mumbled sleepily and nestled into her shoulder, and Esme smiled a little, brushing a finger through his wispy hair. She kissed his forehead, breathing in the warm smell of milk and baby powder. "From the moment I met her," she said, gazing at Bella's son, "I knew we had to do something to help her. She was so quiet, and so afraid."

"Of her father?"

"It seems so." Carlisle rose. "Wait here a moment," he said, and Esme heard his footsteps ascending the stairs to his study.

"I'm glad I came," Heidi said, setting her mug down. "In our profession we're trained to go by facts, not hunches, but I just got such a strange feeling from Isabella and her father..."

"So did we," Esme agreed. "Carlisle and I have been trying to get in touch with someone from CPS for a while now, but all we ever get is the automated line."

"That line is in place to help prioritize cases." Heidi bristled a little bit.

"I know," Esme said, cuddling Mason, "but sometimes you really need to talk to a real person, you know? Bella opened up to us and told us some - just some - of what her father has done to her. It's a horror story."

"They all have horror stories, Mrs. Cullen," Heidi said quietly.

"Not like this." Carlisle came down the stairs holding a portable DVD player and a small silver camera. "We made a recording of Bella talking to us, in hopes that she wouldn't have to repeat her story so many times to so many strangers. She's a very shy girl, and just telling us once was extremely difficult for her. She allowed us to take photos, too. Feel free to look through it all, and then tell us you still think we should wait for her to be 'prioritized.'"

Esme stood. "I can't watch that recording," she said quietly. "Once was more than enough. You'll forgive us if we put Mason to bed, won't you? We can talk more afterward."

"Of course," Heidi said, scooting the DVD player toward her and looking intrigued. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Anything to help Bella." Esme smiled wistfully. "She's family, every bit as much as Mason is. We just want her to be okay."

* * *

Bella woke up slowly, stretching a little. She felt sore, but not overly so. She had vague memories of Edward's cold, gentle touch guiding her to and from the bathroom, and urging her to swallow soup and pills - whether vitamins or sleeping pills she didn't know, nor did she care - at various points throughout her rest. But this was the first time she'd truly awakened since stretching out on her belly in the luxurious wooden bed in this unknown room. Idly she wondered just how long she'd been sleeping - days seemed likely. Not that it mattered terribly. Edward had told her she was permitted to sleep as long as she wished, and while she hadn't particularly wanted to sleep so long apparently her body had other ideas.

Now she stretched again, experimentally. Her muscles were sore, but it was the good, stretchy kind of sore that let her know she was on the mend. She carefully moved one arm, trying to feel for the painful welts she knew had been on her back. Smoothing her fingers over her bare skin, she felt tender but not overly painful. There was some greasy buildup from the burn cream, and she grimaced in distaste as she rubbed her soiled fingertips together. Now that she thought about it, her mouth felt awful and she didn't even want to think about the state of her scalp.

Groaning a little, Bella rolled over onto her back. It felt...not altogether painful, but certainly less comfortable than lying on her stomach. Holding the crisp white sheet to her chest, she tried sitting up. Her back muscles stretched, unused to the position, but on the soft mattress she felt just fine. Smiling a little, she dropped her feet over the edge of the bed and looked around.

The room was almost beyond description. Bella could do little more than stare in wonder; she'd never seen anything like this in the Cullen house before. The floors were wooden parquet, polished to a high gloss. The walls were dark wood as well - or what she could see of them, for they were covered in tapestries.  _Tapestries_. Real ones, not the kind college students hung over their dorm room windows in place of curtains. These had to be very, very old. They looked heavy and dark, and each giant piece of cloth depicted medieval people at various trades. There were women gathering plants, and hunters chasing a stag through a stylized forest. Bella had no idea how long it would have taken someone to make something like this by hand. They were priceless treasures, and they were hanging in her room.

The bed itself was a work of art - big and bulky, the wooden posts carved with an almost masculine flair. Above the crisp white sheets and a wool blanket lay a woven counterpane of dark green with glints of rusty red and bitter yellow here and there. It looked like there had once been a true pattern to the weaving, now lost to the years. Everywhere around her Bella saw great age - the sandstone fireplace, the few pieces of heavy furniture, the heavily-shuttered windows. All bespoke a time long before hers. She hadn't even suspected a room like this could exist anymore, let alone in the open, modern brightness of Esme Cullen's house.

Bella's stomach suddenly growled, pulling her back to the present. She slid off the bed, surprised at just how far a slide it was, and stumbled a little when her feet encountered the cold floor. She remembered the door to the bathroom and made her way to it, thinking of that deep bathtub. While she would have much preferred a shower, she had to admit that the thought of immersing herself in hot water was tempting.

Yes, she thought as she opened the door, this was the bathroom she remembered. Same old-fashioned claw-foot tub, same strange toilet. Someone had set a soft white bathmat next to the tub, and on it sat a woven basket. Bella plugged the tub and started the hot water running, then knelt on the plush oval mat to examine the basket.

Inside were enough bathroom goodies to keep any fussy girl happy, she thought with a smile. Maybe even Alice. There were a myriad of fancy little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and various body washes and lotions, as if whomever put the basket together hadn't known which she would prefer. Twisting off the cap and testing each one, Bella settled on eucalyptus mint body wash - which sounded refreshingly invigorating - and strawberry shampoo and conditioner. There was a little box with several different scents of bath salts, and, feeling luxurious, Bella plopped a strawberry one in the hot water. It instantly began to foam and the warm pink smell of berries wafted into her nose. She couldn't stop smiling as she found a purple toothbrush and several different flavors of toothpaste, a comb and brush, elastics for her hair, deodorant, and various other items. It was absolutely perfect. But who could have been so kind as to leave her a basket of so many choices? Bella took her toothbrush and some spearmint toothpaste to the sink and brushed her teeth for a good long time while the water ran and the room slowly filled with warm strawberry-scented steam. Alice would have just chosen what she saw fit, Bella thought, so the basket probably wasn't from her. Rosalie, perhaps? Rose was always big on choice, but would her obsession with allowing people to make their own decisions bleed over into something so simple as toiletries?

Finally, when Bella thought her mouth might just be clean enough for the time being and her gums tingled happily, she shut the water off and climbed clumsily into the tub. She'd forgotten to wipe the dust off before running the tap, and it now mixed with the light coating of strawberry-scented foam on the water. Leaning back into the tub, Bella could do nothing but let out a contented sigh. The feeling of being surrounded by hot water, the soft scent of berries clinging to the wet ends of her hair, was beyond words. Absolutely enchanting. If you didn't count the fiasco of waking up in a tub with Edward, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been in a bath. She stretched out her legs and hummed her happiness, feeling her sore muscles absolutely melt into the welcome heat.

She remembered the night - or was it day? - Edward brought her here better than the myriad other times she'd half-woken during her rest. Part of her wanted to be embarrassed now, because he'd seen her completely naked, absolutely nothing hiding any part of her body. Including her wounds. But another part of her couldn't dredge up the necessary emotion. When she wrote that note and admitted to Edward that she loved him, she'd laid her soul barer than her skin had been that night. Her words embarrassed her more than any glimpse of flesh could. She'd not only told the Cullen family her story, with nothing left out this time, but she'd shown them the incontrovertible proof - Mason. He was the evidence of her shame, in a form that could not be denied now that he was in Rosalie's care. Bella couldn't hide anymore and pretend that that awful week in Seattle never happened. The Cullens had the baby. There was no more room for denial.

She'd also written to Edward that she loved him, which was still both entirely true and entirely terrifying. Her heart knew before her head did, and it had taken a little time for the both of them to come to an understanding, but once it happened she couldn't lie to herself about that anymore either. No matter how ridiculous it seemed, she was utterly, irrevocably in love with Edward Cullen. So they barely knew each other. She knew enough. So he was a vampire. She wasn't afraid.

Bella was terrified, though, that he would distance himself now that he knew she was safe. Now that he knew the truth about her and had seen Mason with his own eyes. Bella pulled her knees up out of the water and lay her head on them, thinking soberly. What would she do when he sat her down, as she knew he would, and told her that he just couldn't love her? That he came to fetch her out of a sense of duty, but that he could never return her feelings? What would happen then? Would she leave? Bella thought for a long time, her muscles relaxing happily in the hot bath water, but she could not make a decision. The right thing to do was to leave, she was sure. Go it alone, try to find someplace where she could start her life over. But she didn't want to. She would miss Alice's lovable, crazy antics, and Emmett's adorable smile. She'd miss Rosalie's no-nonsense attitude and Carlisle's ready ear. And then there was Esme. The mother she'd always wanted. Bella was not at all sure she would be able to turn and walk away from Esme a second time, no matter what Edward said or did. She didn't know if her heart could take it. After being starved for affection for so long, her body craved it. Her heart needed it. And while every single member of the Cullen household had been willing to give her attention in his or her own way, there was just nothing like the comfort of a mother's arms.

There was nothing like Edward's arms, either. But Bella had to bite back that thought, banishing it furiously to the shadowy corners of her mind. He was too perfect, and she was too broken. There was no way he could return what she felt for him. He used sweet words, but, then, he was a sweet man. No doubt he knew just how to talk to get a desired result. His words and actions toward her had all been to put her at ease, to help her. And while she was grateful for that, she couldn't help but wish it were something more.

A gentle, hesitant knock on the bathroom door stirred Bella from her thoughts. She blinked, making sure she was decently covered by the water and strawberry-scented foam before clearing her throat and asking, "Yes?"

The door opened slowly, letting in a gust of chilly air that hit Bella's wet shoulders and made her shiver. Edward's hesitant face appeared, and she couldn't help but smile at his beauty. He slid inside the room, shutting the door behind him to keep in the warmth.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke," he said, his voice troubled. "I went to pick up some groceries."

"Did you have a good, uh, meal?" Bella asked hesitantly, unsure what to call it when a vampire fed.

He tried to smile, but it came out twisted. "Bella, you astound me."

"Why?"

"You know what I am."

"...Yes?" she said hesitantly, almost a question. "You're a vampire."

He shook his head a little. "Crazy, foolish, adorable little human - why aren't you running as far away from me as you can get?"

Bella thought about it for a minute. Would he allow a little humor to diffuse the situation? "For starters," she said haltingly, "I'm a little bit naked right now."

He stared at her for a long moment, amazement written on his face. "You just made a joke."

"Yes?"

"About me being a vampire."

"Yes?" Her voice grew more and more hesitant as she feared she might have made the wrong decision. She huddled into herself, drawing her knees closer to her chest.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"I am a little when I see your anger," she said honestly, her voice quiet and small in the steamy room. "But not because you're a vampire."

He sighed and dropped to the floor next to the tub, resting his head against the porcelain edge and staring at her with a small, fond smile playing at the edges of his expressive mouth. "I am well aware of that," he said. "But why?"

"You won't hurt me," Bella replied confidently. There wasn't much she was sure of, but she was sure about that, at least.

"I could," he insisted. "So, so easily."

"But you won't." Physically at least, she added in her head. "If you were going to, you would have done it by now. You wouldn't have gone through all that trouble with Charlie if you were just going to eat me."

"Love," he said, his voice low and fervent, "I couldn't stand it if I ever hurt you."

Bella felt her stomach start to flutter at that voice. It was doing awful things to her equilibrium. What a good thing that she was already sitting down. "Will you tell me more about yourself?" she asked quietly, hoping to put off the inevitable conversation where he told her that he just wasn't interested in her.

"If I must," he said, though he didn't sound as reluctant as his words made it seem. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," she said firmly, then covered her mouth as his bright golden eyes gleamed in amusement. "Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to be so - "

"Don't apologize." His voice was gentle. "I want to be honest with you. You've been so brave, Bella, being honest with me and my family. We owe you the same."

"Thank you," she whispered, still unsure.

He frowned, looking impatient, and sat up on his knees, leaning toward her. "First," he said, "the most important thing to know about me, Isabella Swan, is that I am completely in love with you. And I hate hearing you sound so frightened around me. You're right, you know. I won't ever hurt you. I couldn't live with myself if I ever did."

Bella could do nothing but stare. Had he really said what she just thought he said? She blinked several times and resisted the urge to pinch herself under the water. "But - " she stammered, "but...h-how can you? Love me, I-I mean. I'm n-nothing. Nobody. Human. Broken. Ruined - "

She was halted by the feeling of cold fingers pressing against her lips. Immediately she hushed, staring wide-eyed at Edward. His enchanting yellow eyes were even closer to hers, and she could feel the electricity building inside her skin, begging for contact.

"Don't ever say those things about yourself, Bella. My sweet girl, you are  _everything_. So precious. So beautiful and courageous and special. I don't deserve you, but I'm a selfish monster and I don't want to lose you. I want you to be mine."

"Yours?"

"My love, Bella," he murmured, his eyes on her lush pink lips. He couldn't look away. He wanted to say his wife, but this was not the time. They hadn't known each other nearly long enough yet for that to be an acceptable option. Besides, once she found out that she was not actually at his family's house in Forks, he had a feeling she was going to be very, very mad. Perhaps irreparably mad. As selfish as it sounded, he just didn't know if he could stand having a proposal thrown back in his face.

"Love?"

"Yes, love." He watched her tongue flick out to nervously lick her lips, and he almost couldn't stand holding still. "In your letter you said you loved me. You told me to find happiness with a girl who deserved me. Well, I can't do that. The girl I want deserves so much more than me, but like I said, I'm selfish. I want you. No one else."

"But I'm human."

He cocked his head to the side. "Does that mean you don't want me because I'm a vampire?"

"No!"

He bit back a chuckle at her adorable ferociousness. He didn't think she knew quite how adamant that reply had sounded, but it was music to his ears. "Then I don't care," he said quietly. "I love you, Bella Swan, and I want you to be mine."

"Edward..." His name was no more than a breath on her lips. He saw her teeth move to bite at her lower lip again, and before it could happen he pressed his lips to hers.

Her wet arm immediately encircled his neck, bringing him closer, and he reveled in the feel of her hot, dripping skin. She practically radiated heat, and the smell of berries swirling around her was enticingly delicious. She scented the bath with her own mouthwatering smell, too, and all he wanted in that moment was to remain exactly where they were forever, his mouth locked with hers, the scent of Bella wrapped around him.

But she was a fragile, tender human, and she had to breathe. Finally he released her mouth, letting her go. She sucked in a breath of air before pressing her mouth to his again swiftly. They traded gentle kisses for a long time as the bath water and air cooled around them.

Edward finally forced himself from her soft, delicious mouth when he felt the telltale tickle of goosebumps on her skin. She opened heavy, dark eyes, looking at him with an expression that did something awful to his insides. What made it so alluring was the fact that she had no idea - absolutely no clue - how tempting she was. Her sweet innocence was the most beautiful thing about her.

"Let's get you out of there," he suggested, grabbing a plush white towel and holding it out for her. "Then we can get you settled in bed again to warm up, and you can have some lunch. How does solid food sound to you?"

"Amazing," Bella sighed, wobbling a little as she rose from the deep water. Edward politely averted his eyes until she had wrapped the towel around herself, which Bella found sweetly charming. He'd seen her body before, but he wasn't taking that for granted. Would wonders never cease?

"I don't want to go back to bed," she said, clutching the towel close to her body. Now that she was finally awake and the most pressing pain had faded from her body, she felt alert and alive. She wanted nothing more than to enjoy whatever was left of the day before having to go back to sleep.

"No?" A strange look crossed Edward's face, and Bella couldn't place it. It looked almost...afraid? "You're still weak, Bella, love," he said quietly.

"Because I've spent too much time in bed," she said, tucking the towel around herself and finding a second one for her hair. "I  _never_  just lay around, Edward; it's not who I am. I like to keep busy."

"But you're hurt." He moved slightly, shifting into a firmer stance, and his face settled into a look she  _did_  understand. He wasn't backing down.

"I'm always hurt," she snapped, a little louder than she originally meant. "I push past it."

"But you don't need to anymore," he said, frustration rising in his voice. "Please, Bella, just trust me. You've always had to look after yourself, but you have me now."

"And I love you," she said, frowning. He was acting so strange. She always knew he had a possessive streak to him, and certainly his temper, when it showed, could be very intimidating. But he'd never tried to order her around before. He stuck up for her when Alice tried to order her around, in fact. A diaphanous, niggling sort of suspicion with no clear aim began to worm its way into her heart. "But that doesn't mean you take the place of my own head, Edward. I can make decisions for myself still."

"I know you can," he said, the frustration in his voice growing deeper, and he tugged a hand impatiently through his hair. "Believe me, I know you can. Just...please? One more day. Let me take care of you for one more day."

A big part of Bella wanted nothing more than to give into what he was asking. Was it really so hard, she asked herself, to just let go and trust? To let him do for her what she was so used to doing for herself? It was such an unknown feeling, being taken care of. Never had she known anyone, not even her parents, to take such care of her needs. But Edward was acting too strangely, and she needed to know why. She loved him, but something was wrong. What was he hiding?

"No," she said finally, shaking her head and taking a step away from him. "I'm sorry, Edward, but I just can't lay around anymore."

"Bella, please - "

She shook her head again, sudden impatience filling her body, and she slipped through the door, back into the bedroom.

Her clothes had already been folded and hung in a large antique wardrobe, and she dressed quickly in an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The wardrobe door hid her from Edward's sight, but she could feel his presence. He hadn't left. Hair dripping down her back, she left her feet bare and closed the wardrobe.

"Bella, I'm begging you. Please, just stay here."

"No," she said again, afraid to look at him. She had no idea what she would find. Anger? Hurt? Hoping she wasn't making the biggest mistake of her life, she stepped toward the other door, the one that must lead out to the rest of the house. "I'm sorry, Edward, but you're not my boss and I want Esme." With that, she opened the door.

What greeted Bella's sight could not ever be part of Esme Cullen's house in Forks, Washington. Bella could only stare for a long moment. To either side of her ran a long white half-timbered hall, the dark wooden beams exposed. The dark, gleaming wood floor was chilly against her bare feet when she stepped out of her room. What seemed like dozens of closed doors lined the hall. Bella's heart began to beat faster, and she swallowed audibly. This place smelled nothing like Esme's house. The Cullen house in Forks smelled comforting - like clean carpet and cedar, under the delicious aroma of whatever Esme was cooking. This place smelled like old wood, and dust, and just...age. It smelled old, was the only way Bella could describe it. Heart pounding, she took several quick, stumbling steps along the hall. The floor squeaked and groaned, and the little taps of her bare feet echoed back to her along the length of the hall. Other than that, the place was achingly silent. She couldn't hear the sound of another living being anywhere in the whole building.

Breath coming faster as she began to panic, Bella half-ran down the hall, going to the right at random. She found a tight, crooked little stairway and plunged down the steep steps, ending up on her rear at a right-corner landing. Catching herself, she managed to make it the rest of the way down without mishap. At the bottom of the stairs she rushed through a half-open door and found herself in a chilly hall tiled in slate, like her bathroom. Staring wide-eyed, she saw hooks for a great many hats and coats, and bins for boots, the wood scuffed and eaten with age. Several doors led off this hall, but she didn't bother opening any of them. There at the end, she found what she sought: a door with a little window in it, and daylight streaming through. Reaching this door, she lifted an ancient-looking wooden latch and pulled. The door fell toward her as it opened, sagging a little on squeaky hinges, and Bella rushed out into a gravelly, overcast courtyard.

Turning, she beheld the building from which she had emerged. Bella could hardly breathe as she backed away from it, the edifice only growing grander the farther away she moved. It was a manor house, the like of which she'd only seen in books. It sprawled to both sides of her, a stony grey, towered structure straight out of a dream - or nightmare, she thought quickly. At the moment she wasn't sure which. Because no matter how much she trusted Edward, the truth was that she was very much alone in what was - for all intents and purposes - an abandoned castle. With a vampire.

The sudden scuttle of gravel made Bella turn her head, and she found said vampire leaning against the door she'd just run out of, watching her with an unreadable expression on his lovely face. She was very aware that he'd made the noise on purpose; if he hadn't wanted her to hear him, she would not have heard him.

"Where are we?" she asked in a very small voice. "Where have you taken me?"

"This is Ellison House." Edward's voice was quiet, guarded. "The first in a long line of Cullen domiciles."

"Why is it abandoned?"

"It isn't," Edward said tightly. "But you've no idea how much work goes into maintaining a house of this size. There's no point in keeping a full-time staff when we don't live here."

"Why don't you?"

"You never ask the important questions, do you?" Edward shook his head a little, though he was not smiling. "We do not live here for the same reason we don't live in our houses in Chicago, or Columbus. Bad memories. Now ask me where we are again."

Bella swallowed. Whose memories? "Where are we?"

"Britain. Lancashire, to be more precise." His tone was faintly mocking, and Bella could only stare.

"You b-brought me to England?" she stammered, staring at him. How long had she been asleep? "Why? How? What - " She stopped and swallowed back panic, shock flooding her system. She hadn't been thinking clearly before, her head foggy from the painkillers, but now things were falling into place. "You did it on purpose," she said, her voice small and full of despair. "You gave me those pills to make me sleep."

"I did," he agreed. But then his stoic exterior melted, and he took a step toward her. Bella took a step back and wrapped her arms around her middle, holding herself tightly. "Bella, please," he said, his voice full of pain. "I did it to keep you safe. Please try to understand. Your safety means everything to me. I had to get you to a place where Charlie couldn't hurt you anymore."

"Where's Rosalie?" Bella asked, unable to take her eyes from the immense, empty house in front of her. It was frightening, thinking of all those rooms just lying there empty. No one had lived here in how long? She didn't tend to think of herself as having an overactive imagination, but the thought of living in this abandoned manor scared the shit out of her. "Where's Emmett? Esme?"

Edward was silent. Bella forced herself to look at him, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead he studiously watched the ground. A frightened little sob caught in her throat and she swallowed it back down. His silence told her all she needed to know.

"Why?" she whispered, though part of her understood that she wasn't going to get any better answer out of him. "Why did you take them away from me?"

But she didn't wait for an answer. Instead she ducked back inside the house, tears blurring her vision as she ran. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care. All she wanted was to get away from the pained but forceful look on his face. The one that said he'd made his decision and it didn't matter what she wanted. The one that said she was staying here, whether she liked it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To get an idea of the house, watch the 1993 version of The Secret Garden, directed by A. Holland. Most of the filming was done on location at Allerton Castle and Luton Hoo Estate.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella woke abruptly in the somewhat-familiar room that she refused to call her own. She frowned, knowing full well that she had not fallen asleep there. She'd wandered the gloomy corridors of the manor house for hours, poking her head in doors here and there but not really interested in what she might find. While a part of her rational mind knew she would ordinarily be thrilled beyond belief at the prospect of being in a house like this, a house right out of one of her classic novels, she just couldn't find those happy emotions. She was too troubled, too confused.

Edward had betrayed her. She shook her head a little now, sitting up in the giant bed and staring at the fireplace where a small fire burned cheerfully. She drew her knees up to her chest and gazed into the dancing flames. When he came for her, she'd been so happy. Speechless. Beyond grateful. She honestly had thought no one was coming, and that she might well die nailed into that tiny plywood box in her father's garage. But then Edward had come and pulled her free, and he'd been so sweet, so gentle... It was like a dream, going from the depths of her worst nightmare to the only place she ever wanted to be again: Edward's arms. He'd held her and kissed her and whispered sweet words to her.

And then he drugged her, purposefully making her sleep, and brought her to the UK. Bella buried her face in her knees, holding her breath and refusing to cry. She'd cried too much lately.

She had no passport, so how he got her out of the US and into Britain was anybody's guess. Although, she figured that as a vampire living undercover in the human world, he probably knew a few tricks she didn't. It did present a problem for her, though. She couldn't just sneak away from the manor and buy a plane ticket back home. Without a passport, she was truly stuck. She wondered if Edward had thought of that when he chose to bring her here. Probably.

Bella felt her stomach grumbling and she sighed, climbing resolutely out of bed. She thought she'd passed what looked like a kitchen in her wanderings yesterday, and she was more than ready for some food. It was then that she glanced down at herself and stopped moving.

She had fallen asleep last night on an ornate settee in what looked like a sitting room, somewhere in this big, quiet house. Bella remembered that. She also remembered perfectly well that she had been wearing a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt. Now, waking up back in "her" room, she found herself wrapped in a soft white robe. She was a sleep-talker but not a somnambulist, and she knew perfectly well that she had not changed her clothes herself. Once again she felt herself growing frustrated and angry at Edward's bullheaded behavior. She'd told him to  _ask_  her about things, and he'd promised. He'd broken down in near tears after the bathtub incident, back at the Cullen house in Washington, and promised not to do things without asking her again. Yet here he was, bringing her across the Atlantic without her permission, and undressing her without her permission. Bella didn't know which one she was more angry about at the moment.

Face set in rigid lines, she marched to her wardrobe and flung open the door.

Her clothes were gone.

Instead of a small pile of jeans, t-shirts, and sweatshirts, she found several other robes and some long nightgowns. At least he'd let her keep her socks and bras, but her panties were also missing. With a little choking sound, Bella shut the wardrobe again and whirled, running to the bedroom door.

On the floor just outside lay a large silver tray. On it was a small teapot and cup, along with a hearty English breakfast. There was also one white rose, only half open, in a skinny glass vase. Under the vase lay a folded piece of creamy parchment.

Bella ignored the food, fighting back the furious urge to dump the entire contents of the tray on the ground. No matter how hungry she was, she absolutely was not going to eat anything he brought her. For all she knew, it was drugged again. A small voice in her head tried to whisper that she'd willingly taken his pills, that he hadn't hidden them in her food or drink, but she refused to listen. Instead she moved the vase with an impatient hand and picked up the paper. It was a note, written in Edward's appallingly gorgeous hand. The beauty of his penmanship only furthered her frustration - it was yet another example of his superiority, and she didn't like it. She was perfectly willing to admit that he was stronger, faster, smarter, and more beautiful than she could ever aspire to be. But did it have to be rubbed in her face like this? She almost crumpled the note into a ball and left it sitting on the tray, but something stopped her hand. Forcing her mind to calm slightly, she settled herself to read what he had to say.

 _Bella_ , he wrote,  _I understand if you're still upset and don't want to see me. I never wanted to hurt you, but you have to understand that I couldn't stand by any longer and watch your father hurt you. If you expected me to, then you obviously did not understand the depths of my feelings for you. I need to keep you safe at all costs. If that means sacrificing your feelings for me, well, then that's what I will do. Please know that I am so very sorry that it came to this._

_I'm sorry about your clothes, too. I will return them as soon as sufficient time has passed for the wound on your hip to heal._

_I will give you as much time and space as you need. When and if you want to see me, all you have to do is ask. You can have anything you want, my precious, precious Bella; ask and you shall receive. I would like you to be as happy as possible here. Please think about staying in your room and resting. Your body and mind both need time to heal._

_I also promise you, sweet girl, that even if you can't love me anymore after what I've done, you will always be my Bella. My feelings will not change. Love, Edward._

Bella dropped the note, tears in her eyes. How could he be so sweet and so completely dense all at the same time? She didn't  _want_  him to bring her breakfast on a silver platter. She also did not want to have to ask him for anything. She was used to doing for herself and going without what she could not procure. Edward just didn't understand. He didn't  _want_  to understand.

She left the loaded tray where it was and padded down stairs and along corridors for a good half an hour, winding circuitously until she finally stumbled upon the kitchen. It was a giant cavern of a room on the ground floor, near the back of the house. It was obviously intended for feeding a teeming household of people, and Bella grimaced. She liked cooking, but using this place would be strange. Someone had fitted it with large, modern, industrial appliances, and even a walk-in refrigerator. Bella felt ridiculous as she hauled open the heavy metal door and looked inside. It was a small room, like a pantry, but so cold! And there was virtually nothing in there, which made the whole thing seem even more foolish. There was a glass bottle half full of milk, a butter tray, and a bag of fresh spinach.

On the vast wooden counter, back in the kitchen, Bella found some brown bread that had seen better days and an orange that was still mostly good. She ate bread and butter and drank milk, then ate most of the orange, spitting out the bits with the deceptively-sweet taste of something rotten.

Hunger appeased by the poor breakfast, Bella resolutely decided to keep exploring the house. Edward had asked her to stay in her room, but she had no intention of obeying. She'd been cooped up in bed for far too long, and her body would never return to normal if she didn't start using it again. She felt a little sore from walking around so much yesterday, climbing random staircases and descending them again, but she preferred that sort of ache to the kind that came from lassitude.

The house was enormous, and now that her belly was full Bella found her emotions calming as well. Enough, at least, that she could try to enjoy the house. Bits and pieces had been modernized here and there, in a haphazard fashion, but other parts looked like they hadn't seen a human touch in centuries. There was dust absolutely everywhere. Some rooms had old-fashioned light switches that turned like keys. Others had modern switches. Others had no electricity at all. In some rooms the furniture had been covered with white cloths, as if someone had anticipated the house being deserted for some time. In other rooms everything looked as if the resident had just stepped out and might return at any moment.

Bella investigated desks and found parchment and quills and steel-nibbed pens and inkwells full of dried ink. She found clothes from different eras in various wardrobes, and tchotchkes from all over the world. Ivory elephants and jade peacocks. Soapstone carvings. Jewelry set with the most beautiful gems she'd ever seen. How long, she wondered, had this all been sitting here? How much longer until someone tried to break in and take it? She didn't think of Carlisle as a careless man, and leaving this house of treasures unprotected didn't seem like him at all.

Yet through it all, Bella's mind kept returning to Edward. She stumbled upon the sitting room she'd fallen asleep in the night before, and as she stepped into the room his scent of lightning and woodsmoke wafted to her like the strains of an old and dear melody almost forgotten. She didn't think she'd ever be able to forget that particular smell. It tore at her insides, stirring to life once again the ache that her treasure hunt had allowed her to almost ignore.

Bella dropped onto the dark green settee again, curling into its unforgiving frame. It was not a terribly comfortable piece of furniture - all carved, polished wood and old, thin cushions - but she didn't much care. She closed her eyes, feeling the shuddering pain rip through her. For the first time in her life, she felt truly, utterly alone. It was an awful feeling. Even in Phoenix her mother had loved her - it had been a vague, scatterbrained kind of love, but it was there. And in Charlie's house, while she had not felt love, at least she always had his attention. Here, though, she was alone. The weight of the silent manor house pressed against her, heavy and old and dark. Edward was around somewhere, no doubt, but she did not want to see him. Not while she was still so confused, so unsure. She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know what she was supposed to want.

No, she thought abruptly. That wasn't true. She did know what she wanted. She wanted Esme. Or Rosalie. Or cheerful Alice, her first real, true friend. Emmett's smile. Carlisle's soft, calm voice. The way Jasper watched over his family protectively. She knew that leaving had been her choice, but she hadn't known how much it would hurt, how much she would miss them. She didn't miss her mother the way she missed Esme.

Esme. Bella's eyes filled with tears, but she gripped the carved wooden back of the settee tightly in her hands and refused to let them fall. More than anything, she wanted Esme's soft golden eyes, her gentle, cool arms, her motherly voice whispering words that would make everything okay. Bella had no idea what those words would be - she suspected that if she did, she wouldn't feel the need for Esme so badly. But she didn't know how to comfort herself when she felt like this. Band-Aids and antiseptic cured a number of hurts, but not loneliness.

But really, she argued with herself, what else could she have done? She had to leave in order to protect Mason. And now that they had him, she didn't know if she could ever go back. Edward didn't seem to think it mattered that she had had a child, though they had not really discussed it. If Edward didn't judge her, would his family? Bella didn't know. She also didn't know if she could stand to live in the same house with the baby, even if he were in Rose's care. She didn't know whether she could stand to see that daily reminder of what happened to her over a year ago in Seattle. And what if he just kept growing more and more like his father as he aged? Bella knew she couldn't bear to one day wake up and see that same face staring at her over the breakfast table, no matter how much she understood that it wasn't the same person. There were so many what-ifs, so many might-have-beens, and she had no answers for them. Maybe if Mason had been a girl, she would feel differently about him. Maybe if he looked more like her and less like her attacker. Maybe...maybe...what if.

And Edward. Bella's mind kept returning to him. His scent still lingered in the room; she wondered if he'd watched her for a while before moving her. He was so beautiful, with his pale skin and strange, wonderful hair. So pretty. Whenever she saw him, all she wanted to do was touch him. She could hardly believe that it wasn't so long ago she'd flinched away when he grabbed her arm in biology class. She could also hardly believe that he'd willingly done the things he had to her body. Her face flamed as she remembered the night he lay with her on the chaise in his bedroom, gently coaxing pleasure from her willing but terrified body. Pain rippled through her as she remembered falling asleep in his arms, sated and warm, feeling like nothing could ever harm her again. That girl she had been such a short time ago, heart tender with new love, could not imagine the girl she was now, trembling on an antique settee in a strange old house, afraid and very much alone.

She didn't want to use the word betrayal. It sounded too final, too evil. Edward wasn't evil. He was pigheaded and dominating, and he clearly didn't understand when she tried to explain how important it was that she have her freedom. But he wasn't evil. She was furious with him still, and her heart ached with sadness that out of such love had come such anger. But she understood that he was not an evil person. Charlie was evil. Charlie took her free will away to deliberately hurt her. Edward did it to protect her, no matter how wrong he was.

Her head understood that. But her heart was still too angry and too hurt to even attempt to reconcile within herself. And before she could even think about reconciling with Edward, she had to be able to do it with herself.

Finally, when the sun was disappearing and leaving the halls murky and dark, Bella retreated to the kitchen. She had no wish to be lost in this giant house once the sun went down. The electricity was too hit-and-miss for her to feel entirely comfortable, no matter how fascinating she found the place. Every time she opened a door, there was more treasure to find. Even something as simple as a doorlatch or elegant carving on a piece of furniture was intriguing to her.

In a cupboard Bella found some pasta and cans of tomatoes. She ate pasta with tomatoes and spinach and a little butter, for there was no cheese, and drank the last of the milk. She half expected that Edward might have left her another tray, but she didn't care. Still upset with him, she did not want to accept anything that he brought her.

After eating and washing the few dishes she had dirtied, Bella lingered in the vast, empty kitchen for a while. Now that darkness had settled over the house, she was a little unnerved by how quiet it was. She wasn't even sure Edward was here - she had neither seen nor heard him all day. The kitchen itself was so big and quiet that it gave her chills, and she decided to return to "her" room, for lack of anything better to do. Sighing, she climbed the dark, twisting stairway and found the correct hall.

She'd been right - there was a tray waiting for her, and it held a heaping bowl of cheesy macaroni, some delicious-smelling breaded chicken, and bread and vegetables. Again there was a slender vase, this time with a single pink rose. Bella did not pause to see if there was a note. She closed her nose to the wafting smells of the hearty fare, and slipped inside her room.

Dusty and grimy from her explorations, Bella decided to climb into the bathtub. She opened the door to her bathroom and flipped on the light before pausing, startled.

While she'd been out perusing the manor, someone - Edward, she was sure - had installed a shower in her bathroom.

The showerhead rose from the bathtub fixture, and there was a funny old-fashioned shower curtain that ran all the way around the tub, like in old cartoons. Bella stared, feeling the significance of this gesture.

Twice now there had been trouble with a bathtub. The first time, she had woken naked in Edward's arms, after he'd moved her to the tub while she slept. The second time, he had professed his love to her while she soaked in this very bath, then abruptly tried to keep her in her room so she did not find out just how far from her father he had taken her. The bathtub was a sign of trust - of trust broken, trust damaged. Edward putting in a shower was a sign also - a sign that he understood she was angry with him, and he did not particularly expect her to forgive him. He didn't have to write it out in a note. The meaning was crystal clear.

Bella climbed hesitantly into the tub and started the shower, unsure what to think as warm water rained down on her dusty, grimy self. She loved him. That was true enough. She loved him, and that would not change. Once she gave her heart, that was the end of it. She didn't know how to un-give something like that. That was part of the problem between her and her father. He was her  _father_. Her daddy. Once upon a time her world had revolved around him. The fact that he now hurt her on a regular basis could not alter the past. He was her father. Nothing could change that, no matter how far away Edward tried to take her.

And nothing Edward could do would change the fact that she loved him, either. Certainly she felt betrayed. Certainly she was angry - furious, even, when she let herself think about it. She didn't want to accept the meals he left her and she didn't want to ask him for anything. She wanted nothing from him. She did not even particularly want to see him, no matter how much her body missed the comforting pressure of his arms holding her tightly.

But that didn't stop her from loving him.

Her heart ached, and Bella shut the water off, no longer soothed by its warmth. Stepping out of the tub, she wrapped herself in a towel and then a robe. She stared out the darkened window, seeing nothing. Was Edward out there somewhere, hunting deer? She stared into the blackness for a long time, letting the chill of the big old house settle around her, both inside and out.

* * *

Rage filled Charlie as he parked his police cruiser at the grocery store. This was supposed to be Isabella's job, procuring and preparing food for him to eat. He hadn't had to do this in months - not since she'd come to live with him. He couldn't imagine why she'd decided to do it, unless that little girl really was just as stupid as he'd always assumed. Did she think he'd ease up his discipline because she was with him full time? If she'd thought so, she found out quickly just how mistaken she had been.

Charlie grimaced as he yanked a shopping cart free from the line and turned toward the produce section. Not that he had any real interest in most of that aisle, but he was thinking about some refrigerated guacamole or maybe a baked potato. He could cook steak outside on the grill. Was the stove really that much harder, he wondered? Damn that fucking girl for leaving, anyway. And damn whoever had helped her, too. He knew full well that there was no way she could have gotten out of that box in the garage by herself. Someone broke into the house and broke her out.

Of course, there wasn't any question about it when he woke up the next morning and came downstairs to find both the garage and the front doors wide open, cold air wafting into his house and the heater running at full tilt. It still made his blood boil, thinking about how much money that open door had cost him. Damn it all to hell, anyway.

Part of him wanted to wash his hands of the whole fucking affair and say that he was glad Isabella was gone. She was a moody little nuisance, no matter how much work she saved him by cooking his meals and cleaning his house. And it wasn't like her mother would come looking for her. Renee was as ditzy as they came. In another year, Charlie bet she would hardly remember she'd had a daughter.

But the bigger part of Charlie was not about to let this go, and he knew the reason. That little girl was  _his_. Someone had come into his house and removed something that belonged to him, and he was not about to sit still and let that happen. If someone stole his car or his camera, he would do what he had to in order to get it back and punish the thief. Isabella was no different.

Charlie had a pretty good idea who had helped her run away, too. Last time it had been a no-good Cullen kid, and he was sure this time it was, too. Maybe not the  _same_  Cullen kid, but it hardly mattered. He pulled a face, staring at the display of shiny red apples without really seeing them. Weren't there three Cullen sons? He wouldn't be surprised if his slut of a daughter was putting out for every male in the family. She'd done it before. All that whining about being raped by his friend from Tacoma was just a weak attempt to avoid punishment, of course. Frank had explained to him exactly what had really happened, how he returned to the hotel to retrieve the wallet he'd forgotten that morning, and how Isabella slunk out of her room in her birthday suit, begging him to fuck her. Charlie held no ill will toward his friend. Frank was only human, after all - only a man - and Isabella was a sneaky, cunning bitch.

Which brought him to yet another of his troubles. Isabella had conned Jacob Black into going with her to Olympia and telling some sob story to her bastard son's social worker. Charlie had no idea what she might have said, but it was enough that they released the kid to an adoptive family and that would not do at all. He needed that kid to force his girl to stay. She was getting too bold for her own good and she needed to be taught a lesson. Hearing her bastard cry, watching as Charlie snapped his little arm or leg, would be good for her. Show her her place. Remind her to whom she belonged, and would always belong. After begging Charlie to spare the boy's life, he doubted she would be stupid enough to try running away again.

But first he had to get the bastard back. Having him in the care of the state had been perfect. That way Charlie didn't have to pay for his upkeep, but the kid was always within his grasp. Just one call to the social worker would start the ball in motion to have the kid transferred to his care. He had Bella right where he wanted her - in the palm of his hand.

It likely wouldn't be easy persuading the social worker to annul an adoption, but he hoped that once he convinced her of Isabella's lies he would once again have the upper hand. Charlie knew he held the key to that part, too. All he had to do was convince the social worker to run a paternity test. He could prove that Jacob Black was not the father of Isabella's bastard, and hopefully then the social worker would believe him, not his daughter, about the rest of it as well. The adoption would be annulled on the grounds of false evidence, and he would be free to bring the little rat home, forcing Isabella back as well.

And then she was going to pay like she'd never paid before.

The sudden sound of giggles made Charlie scowl, and he pulled his attention back to the task at hand. He swung his cart around to the next aisle, and found the source of the sound. The two Cullen daughters were there, their cart heaped with diapers and cans of baby formula, and they were studying the nutritional information on little jars of baby food. In the cart's child seat sat a dark-haired baby, getting gummy bits of chocolate chip cookie all over himself.

It was the little black-haired one making all the noise, and Charlie wrinkled his nose. How anyone could stand living with a girl like that, he didn't know. He'd certainly taught Isabella early on that he wasn't going to put up with any unnecessary noise. It seemed that Dr. Cullen needed some lessons in controlling his daughter.

But then Charlie got a closer look at the baby in the basket, and fury overtook him. Those dark curls and blue eyes were Frank's, no doubt about it. That was Isabella's kid, there, which could only mean one thing: she'd given it to the Cullens to adopt.

Anger radiated through Charlie's frame, spilling through his skin, and he saw red. For a moment all he could do was stand stock-still but then he was running full force at the two Cullen girls and the messy child. The girls turned before he reached them, surprise on their faces, and Charlie shoved impatiently at the little one. She stumbled back just a half step, and Charlie would have been shocked that his firm push hadn't knocked her to the floor if he wasn't so caught up in what he was doing. He made a wild grab for the baby boy in the cart, but the tall blond girl was quick and she shoved it down the aisle.

"Emmett, catch!" she yelled, and Charlie saw the biggest of the Cullen sons appear around the far corner. He stopped the cart and hoisted the now-wailing baby into his arms. He paused for a second, as if torn between rushing the baby somewhere safe and running to help his sisters, but suddenly the little one was beside him. She murmured something to him and he gave her the crying baby before running up the aisle toward Charlie and the blonde.

"Are you on crack?" the blonde was demanding of Charlie, her body set in a defensive stance and her arms crossed over her chest. "Who attacks girls and babies in a grocery store?"

The big Cullen had reached them by now and tried to elbow his way between Charlie and the girl, but she put a hand on his arm, keeping him back. He growled low in his throat, and Charlie stared. He'd seen this kid before, but for the first time now they were face to face and he was realizing just how big he was. The pretty boy in Isabella's room had been well-built, but he hadn't looked like this. Were all the Cullen men on steroids?

By now the store manager and several clerks had come pounding up and stood warily on the fringes of the argument. Charlie saw them but didn't pay them much attention. They wouldn't dare call the police on their  _chief_. They were confused little sheep, and would do as he told them.

"That baby," he yelled, not caring to keep his anger in check, "belongs to  _me_!"

"He does not," the blonde said, glaring at him. If looks could kill, Charlie thought, he wouldn't be dead and buried, he'd be cremated and interred in an urn on someone's mantel. "He's the newest member of my family, and I'll thank you to keep away."

"That is my grandson!" Charlie stepped closer, getting in her face. She did not back away but continued to stare him down with her unnatural yellow eyes. "He was stolen from me by my daughter's trickery! He belongs to me!"

"He legally belongs to us," she replied coldly. "Don't make us get the state involved, because we will." She turned away, shoving him with her shoulder in a way that she could probably argue was accidental. Charlie staggered backward several paces, almost falling, and he rubbed the throbbing spot on his chest where she had hit him. Were the daughters taking steroids, too? What was with this family?

"By the way," the giant boy tossed out before he turned to follow his sister, "where  _is_  your daughter, chief? Haven't seen her around lately."

With that, they retrieved their cart and turned down another aisle, disappearing from view. Charlie let out a long breath, anger still roiling in his gut, mixing now with embarrassment as he glanced at the store employees staring wide-eyed at him. That entire family was trouble, and they were going to pay. Even more now, he vowed, since they had Isabella's bastard. They were keeping him from his rightful property, and for that they were going to pay dearly.

* * *

Rosalie stood at the window of Mason's nursery, his sleeping body soft and heavy in her arms. She gazed out at the forest without really seeing it, breathing in the soft smells of the sleeping baby and reveling in the feeling of holding him. He was precious to her, so very precious, and her mind couldn't quite come to grips with what had happened this evening.

It wasn't like they'd almost lost him - not really. Charlie hadn't even come close to putting his hands on his grandson. She and Alice had scented him at the same moment and turned, and Alice had distracted Charlie for the second it took for Rose to push him toward Emmett's waiting hands. It hadn't really been much of an encounter, when all was said and done. But it unnerved her, nonetheless. It proved that Charlie wanted Mason and was willing to do whatever it took to get him, even if that meant risking his career by exposing his maniacal rage.

They'd paid for Mason's diapers and formula and quickly left the store, acting as if nothing was wrong, though inside Rose felt anger the like of which she'd never felt before. Now Charlie had tried to harm her little boy. Now it was personal.

In the car Alice had apologized over and over again, swearing she hadn't seen Charlie's decision.

"He didn't make one," Emmett growled, clutching the steering wheel so tightly that he left dents in it. "Did you see his eyes? That wasn't a rational act, what he did in there."

Now, as Rose held her sleeping boy in her arms, she had to agree. There was something deeply wrong with Bella's father, and for the sake of the community they needed to start working to get him off the streets before something worse happened. She stroked Mason's wispy curls and kissed his sleeping cheek. He was like a little furnace when he slept, leaking heat. Rose didn't mind; she knew that at least he wasn't uncomfortably chilled when she held him.

"Hey, hot mama," Emmett said quietly, slipping into the room. "Everything all right in here?"

"Yeah." Rose smiled as she felt his strong arms slip around her, and she kissed his jaw gently.

"Y'know, he  _is_  capable of sleeping by himself in his crib."

Rose held a little tighter to the baby in her arms. It wasn't for his benefit that she was holding him, but hers. Emmett knew that perfectly well. "What if he takes him?" she asked, still staring out the window. "What if he finds some legal loophole? I can't deal with that, Em, I just can't. I would give my boy back to Bella if she asked, but I couldn't give him to anyone else. Especially Charlie."

"I know, babe." Emmett's arms tightened. "I'm sorry he found out we have our little dude, but I promise you we won't let him take him. Carlisle and Esme wouldn't let Bella down like that, let alone you. We've got Heidi on our side, too. Do you remember how sick she looked after watching the video Carlisle made of Bella?"

"But we haven't heard from her since."

Mason stirred, and Rosalie stepped away from Emmett, rocking his little form in her arms. He rubbed his face against her shoulder, fussing sleepily, before settling back into sleep.

"Can I take him?" Emmett asked. Rose didn't want to let the baby go, but she couldn't deny Emmett when he asked to hold him. She let her husband scoop Mason's warm, sleeping weight off her shoulder and into his arms. Her body missed the satisfying little bulk of him almost instantly, but she had to smile as she watched Emmett's big arms close around Mason's little self, resting him against his broad shoulder. Mason snored wetly several times, bubbles leaking from the corner of his open mouth, but he did not wake.

Rose loved watching Emmett with the baby. He was so awkwardly charming as he tried to be gentle with the tiny human entrusted to his care, and Rose knew he adored Mason just as much as she did. She didn't know how she would ever be able to thank Bella for this precious gift. There were problems in the offing, certainly - what would happen as Mason grew and aged, and his family did not? How much of the truth would they tell him, and when? And of course, the most pressing, difficult question that Rose didn't even want to think about yet: would he someday be turned, or would they allow him to live out his normal human life to its eventual end? She reached out a hand and touched his warm back, unable to keep her hands to herself when those unwelcome questions rose in her mind. Right now she wanted only to care for and love her little baby boy. The rest would come all too soon, but it wasn't here yet. Right here, right now, Mason was hers and Emmett's, and he was nothing but a little baby asleep on his father's shoulder.

"What do we do if there's a court battle?" she asked, steeling herself for the answer.

Emmett sighed. "I don't know, babe. Carlisle's the one with all the answers, not me. But for my part, I promise Charlie's never getting his hands on Bella or our little dude. Never."

"I think Edward has the Bella part well in hand." Rose leaned her head on his free shoulder, watching her son sleep. "As much as I miss her and hope she's all right, I can't be too upset about it. He should have told someone, but I can't be mad that he took her. She's too selfless for her own good, and that bastard she calls a father was going to kill her one of these days."

"Do you think they'll come back?"

"As long as Edward has his way, I doubt it. Not while Charlie's still around."

"But won't Bella have to testify if there's a trial?"

Rose shrugged. "Ask Jasper; I've never been to law school. And even if she were here, I'm not at all sure she's in any shape to sit in a crowded courtroom and tell everyone her life story. She's a strong young woman, but I don't know if she's  _that_  strong."

"Poor kid." Emmett turned his head and kissed Mason. "Do you think she'll ever want him back?"

Rose slid her arms around Emmett's waist, hooking her thumbs in his belt loops. "Who knows? She sounded pretty resolute in her letter, but there's no telling what state of mind she'll be in whenever we see her next."

"I worry about you, babe."

Rosalie smiled. "I know you do, you big oaf, and I love you for it. But I'll be okay as long as Charlie doesn't get his hands on our little boy."

"No worries," Emmett said, one hand splayed protectively over Mason's back. "No one in the family is ever going to let that happen."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning for this chapter.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

She slept.

Edward sat next to her on the giant bed and watched, his eyes heavy with sadness, as her chest moved slowly with each breath. He knew perfectly well that she was still angry with him and didn't want to see him, but he couldn't keep away. Everything about her called to him - her beauty, her tantalizing scent, even the pain he could see plainly in her murky eyes. He remembered how that skin felt under his fingers, so warm and silk-soft, and he ached to touch her once again, to hold her in his arms and feel her relax into him. That was impossible right now, what with the way she clearly felt about him, but at least he could sit next to her and watch over her as she slept.

He bore her no ill will - after all, he thought, she was perfectly within her rights to be furious at him. He had taken her away from everything she knew, and he had done it without her permission. After that, when he figured she couldn't get any angrier anyway, he'd taken her jeans away so as to stop her from making the wound on her hip any worse than it already was.

It tore him to pieces to watch her when she was so unhappy, but there was nothing he could do to fix it until she was willing to let him. He understood that much, although he didn't like it. Edward had to admit to himself that it was possible he'd gone too far and his beautiful Bella might never forgive him. But it absolutely broke him to see her toss and turn in her sleep, to hear her crying out not for him or her mother, but for Esme. She wanted Esme, and he had made that wish impossible. But he was too afraid that contacting his family would cause more problems. What if they learned where he was? What if they tried to force him to bring Bella back? Because he wasn't letting that happen. She wasn't going back until her father was safely behind bars, and maybe not even then. She had no passport and no forms of identification on her. Even if she somehow managed to slip away from the manor without his knowledge, there was no way she could get out of the country. She was effectively trapped, and while he hated the thought of doing that to her, he didn't hate it enough to set her free. Not when he knew her predilection for returning to her father's house. Whether she had a death wish or merely a Catholic sense of guilt didn't matter anymore. He was going to keep her safe, even if that meant keeping her safe from herself.

Edward knew perfectly well that she wasn't eating the food he brought her, but he didn't know why. Surely what he provided tasted better and was more nutritious than the odds and ends in the kitchen. Whatever was there was either leftovers from his cooking attempts or the castoffs of the old human caretaker, whom Edward had moved into a hotel while he and Bella inhabited Ellison House. He wondered whether he should just stock the kitchen and let Bella prepare her own meals, but the chivalrous part of him rejected that idea. He wanted to help her, wanted to do things for her. And since she wouldn't let him comfort her with words or touches, cooking was almost the only thing he could do. Anything she asked for, he would provide. But she refused to ask. He'd wondered at first whether she might attempt to communicate with him through notes, if she was still too angry to speak to his face. But she'd left his first note crumpled in a ball on her tray, and she had not even attempted to read the second. Writing to each other seemed to be out, then.

Bella twisted in her sleep, her expression troubled, and she whimpered quietly. The sound sent a pang through Edward's heart and he longed to reach out for her but he had no idea how she would react if she woke and found him on her bed. Her head tossed restlessly from side to side. "No," she said, her hands grabbing at the edges of the sheet and pulling, wrenching at handfuls of linen. "No, please!" She whimpered again and coughed a little. Edward wanted nothing more than to hold a glass of soothing water to her lips, but he didn't dare wake her. "Esme!" she begged. "Esme." The second time she called his mother's name was quieter, and she sounded almost defeated, as if even in her sleep she understood that Esme would not answer.

Had he been wrong, Edward wondered, as he wondered every night when Bella called for his mother in her sleep? Should he find some way to let Bella communicate with the mother figure she begged for as she slept?

But, no. No matter how much her dreams troubled him, Edward couldn't risk it. He could not risk Bella returning to her father's house, which was what she seemed intent on doing no matter what he and his family said. Idly he wondered if he could find the answer to this riddle in a psychology book. God knew he had enough time on his hands. If there wasn't anything helpful in Carlisle's library here in the manor, he could try the local lending library. Did they have lending libraries in the UK? They must, Edward decided. Britain was, after all, a much more civilized society than the US.

Bella had been waking early here, not long after the sun rose. As the sky brightened, nearing dawn, Edward scowled at her big lead-paned windows. Dawn meant he had to leave his girl, which he hated. She stirred, turning over and shoving her face into the pillow. He worried that she might suffocate, sleeping like that, but her back continued to rise and fall peacefully for another half hour or so. Then he heard her heartbeat begin to speed toward wakefulness and he sighed regretfully. It was time to go back to his own room now, which he'd hastily set up after acknowledging that there was no way Bella would let him stay with her.

He slid off the bed, full of unhappiness, and spent one last moment gazing at Bella's form huddled under the blankets. It was cold in the big, drafty house, so every night after she went to sleep he made her a fire in her grate. It was dangerous work for a vampire and it scared him a little, but he did it anyway. He didn't want his girl getting cold.

Bella shifted in bed again, turning her face toward the overcast light of a damp dawn now glimmering through her windows. Her eyelids fluttered, but she was not awake yet. Edward couldn't help himself. She was too lovely for words as she slept, one hand tucked under her pale pink cheek, her eyelashes dark as bruises against her skin. He stole to the edge of the bed and bent down, pressing his lips softly to her temple, breathing in the sweet, clean smell of her. She exhaled and shifted again, nuzzling into her pillow. A contented smile flickered across her expressive mouth, and Edward heard the one thing that could set his undead heart to life. She inhaled, and through the smile she murmured his name. "Edward..." she whispered, still asleep and still so beautiful.

He stole away then, still reluctant to leave her but filled with more hope than he had felt in days. They would get through this. He'd do everything in his power to get them through.

* * *

Bella woke that morning resolute that she was not just going to mope around for however long Edward intended on keeping her here. She was missing her schooling, but there wasn't anything she could do about that. She could, however, do her best to keep herself occupied. An unoccupied mind led to morose thoughts. She'd rather not have the time to feel sorry for herself. Instead she clambered out of the enormous bed and exchanged her old robe for a nightgown, hating it but having no other choice. She pulled on her own shoes and socks and opened her door, ignoring the breakfast Edward had left without even a glance at the tray, and clattered downstairs to the kitchen. Every day the leftover bits from Edward's cooking the day before appeared in the kitchen, and Bella used the odds and ends to sustain herself. She knew he knew perfectly well what she was doing, and sometimes she suspected he was just playing along, pretending that this was some sort of a game. But she had to eat somehow, and she sure as hell wasn't going to eat from his hands. She might be trapped here, but she wasn't going to play the part of the nice little pet, staying where she was told and eating when and what was provided. She'd already had everything else taken away from her. She wasn't sacrificing her free will.

After swallowing a makeshift breakfast, Bella opened the door to the little scullery off the main kitchen. Here she found some very dusty old cleaning implements: a stiff brush, a wooden bucket, a tin of soap powder whose age she didn't even want to attempt to guess, and a label-less bottle that smelled promisingly like bleach. If she'd been set the task of cleaning the manor house, Bella knew she would likely feel too overwhelmed to know where to start. But since she had plenty of time and virtually nothing else to do, there was no pressure. She started right where she was in the scullery, mixing a bucket of soapy water with a little bleach and scrubbing the hell out of every surface she encountered.

Bella had time to think as she worked, but physical activity releases endorphins and she couldn't mope while she scrubbed. Eventually she scrambled back to her room to fetch one of the terrycloth bathrobes Edward had left her, and with more satisfaction than was probably necessary, she took the kitchen shears and cut it into rags. Once she was done with the lower cabinets and the floor and had filled the old porcelain sink with stronger bleach solution to try to get some of the stains out, she dragged a chair in from the kitchen and used it to climb up and reach the higher cabinets.

In these she found another wooden bucket, though this one had a broken handle. She also found much evidence of mice, though that didn't bother her as much as the spider webs. Were there poisonous spiders in Britain? Bella didn't know. There certainly were in Phoenix, and she had learned her arachnophobia there. Now she flicked a sopping wet rag into the shadowy corners of each cabinet, dislodging the cobwebs, before she allowed her hand anywhere near where a spider might be lurking. She wished she had gloves; the bleach was making her fingers tingle and peel a little. But she'd rather have peely fingers than nothing to do, so she continued to scrub.

While the scullery dried, Bella started in on the kitchen. It wasn't nearly so dirty - Edward must have done at least a cursory cleaning in here at some point - but there was no way it would pass muster with Charlie. Bella scrubbed, her knees sore from kneeling on hard wood and slate floors all day, but she was happier than she had been since realizing she was trapped here. She had something to do, something she had chosen to do all by herself. Maybe it wasn't anything big or important, but it was her own.

By the end of the day Bella had managed to finish the scullery, the kitchen, and what she referred to as the "servant's hall," which opened off the kitchen and led to the side door she'd opened on her first really awake day at Ellison House. It wasn't much comparatively, but it was something. Her knees were bruised and her back ached, but she was proud of herself nonetheless. Edward was trying to enforce idleness, but he couldn't just keep her sitting around like some pretty doll. She needed to  _do_  things. Even something as simple as having washed several rooms made her feel better.

Bella was tired, though, as she made her way back to her room. She'd skipped dinner, not feeling hungry after all her work. It had been tough, sometimes, figuring out how to reach certain areas. The kitchen cabinets were deep, and she'd had to almost crawl fully inside them in order to reach the backs. The scullery ceiling had not been terribly high and she was able to reach the corner cobwebs, but the kitchen was much taller. She'd dragged a formidably heavy table around from corner to corner, then climbed up on it and used a damp rag and an old broomstick (which sadly had no actual broom attached). Even then she was just barely able to reach into the corners of the lofty ceiling on her tiptoes.

Now Bella passed Edward's tray without even looking at it, as had become her custom. She'd been here - awake, at least; she still didn't know quite how long she'd slept - for a little over a week now, and Edward had not stopped bringing her breakfasts and dinners that she did not eat. He hadn't shown himself since the day she woke and stumbled outside into the gravelly courtyard, though Bella knew he was around. Every once in a while she caught a whiff of his scent along a hallway in the house, and every morning she woke awash in it. He was coming into her room when she slept, and she knew that. But he'd been right about one thing - her body was still recovering, and she just couldn't keep awake. Sleep took her early each evening and did not let her go until dawn.

Bella hesitated in her bathroom, staring at the tub. She was sore and she wanted a soak. Her pride wanted her to shrug it off and use the shower because of all the baggage associated with bathtubs, but...Bella shook her head resolutely and pushed forward, shoving the shower curtain out of the way and plugging the tub. Foregoing something she wanted to do because of its associations with Edward was just as bad as letting him make decisions for her, she tried to convince herself. The words sounded nice, but she wasn't sure she completely believed them. Still, she let her sore muscles win the argument and she climbed into the tub, relaxing happily into the hot water. It really did feel divine.

* * *

Edward hurried back across the park toward Ellison House, his stomach full of deer and one fox unlucky enough to have stumbled across his path. Of course, this was the country of fox hunts, wasn't it? He lifted one side of his expressive mouth - at least he was participating in the local culture, wasn't he?

But the halfhearted attempt at humor lasted no more than a fraction of a second. He was anxious to get back to his girl. He hated losing any time he had with her, and the only time he had now was when she slept. But he felt uneasy hunting during daylight hours, even on private property, so he was forced to spend some of his precious nighttime feeding rather than watching Bella sleep. He'd left while she was still bathing, hoping that his feeding would coincide with the rest of her nightly ritual and then he would miss little of their time together.

But the moment he opened the doors and slid into the house, he knew something was wrong.

Fear permeated the air, thick and unpleasant, and as the only person in the entire manor was Bella, it had to be coming from her. Edward shot up the stairs as fast as his vampire speed would take him, flying along corridors and through passages until he reached the correct hallway. To his surprise he found Bella huddled in front of her closed door, a little white ball of girl swathed in cotton. She was trembling as she lay on her side, curled tightly around herself.

Instantly Edward forgot about their fighting, about the fact that he was supposed to be keeping his distance and giving her time to think through things on her own. He knelt next to her and pulled her tense form off the cold floor and into his arms.

She didn't struggle, which surprised him. Instead, she slid her arms around him, clutching his shoulders tightly. Her thin form tensed and shook with the force she used to hold herself to him. Edward held her as tightly as he dared, relief surging through him that she was safe and seemed unharmed. Whatever had frightened her, he had her now. He could protect her. He stood, holding her firmly in his arms, hearing her frightened little breaths as she tucked her head close to his ear. She wasn't crying, but he expected that. For some reason, she didn't seem to like to cry in front of him.

"Bella, baby," he said, rubbing his fingers against her back in what he hoped was a soothing touch, "Bella, what's wrong? What happened?"

She didn't answer right away, but he had not entirely expected her to. She pushed closer to him, her arms redoubling their strength, but said nothing. Edward stepped closer to the closed door of her bedroom, thinking about putting her in her bed so she didn't get chilled. But as he moved she whimpered and clutched him tighter.

"No!" she said, her voice small and frightened but firm in its intensity. "No, don't put me back in there!"

"What's wrong? Did something in that room scare you?"

Once more Bella didn't answer. "Don't take me back in there," she repeated.

"Okay," Edward said, "okay, I won't, baby. I promise, I won't." Not knowing what else to do, since she clearly was not happy about returning to her room, Edward decided to take her to his. It was upstairs, almost directly above her room, where he could hear when she climbed into bed and judge when it was safe to return to her. Now he climbed the stairs with Bella in his arms, feeling her tremble against him. He had hoped that taking her away from anything that could possibly remind her of her father would stop these panic attacks, but apparently that wasn't the case. Something had to have happened to make her so scared.

Edward opened the door to his room, which was smaller than Bella's and had no electricity. He hadn't felt the need for any - his eyes saw perfectly well in the dark. Thankfully it was a clear night, and the moon shone in through leaded windows, making it easier for Bella to see. He tried to place her in his bed, but she held onto him fiercely and would not let go.

"Shh, sweet girl, it's all right," he said, trying to soothe her. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I just want to keep you warm."

"No," she whimpered, clutching his shoulders and refusing to let go.

"Does that mean you want me to come with you?" he asked hesitantly. He was still very aware that they had not talked since she ran from him in the courtyard the day she awoke, and she was probably still angry with him. He didn't want to overstep his bounds and make her even more upset when it looked like reconciliation might just be possible.

But she nodded her head against his shoulder, and so Edward kicked off his shoes and slid into the bed with Bella in his arms. He'd cleaned and aired the bed without really knowing why, since he did not sleep and he had no stereo to lie around and listen to in this house. But now he was glad as he leaned against the pillows and drew the blankets tightly around Bella. She straddled his lap, pressing her soft self to him, burying her head in the crook of his shoulder. Edward sucked in a deep breath, but he let her do what she wanted. If sitting like this gave her comfort, he wasn't going to stop her.

"Can you tell me what scared you so badly?" Edward asked after a few minutes, when Bella's hold on him did not loosen and her breath kept coming in frightened little pants.

She shook her head tightly, then nuzzled her warm nose against his throat. Edward swallowed, forcing his hands to remain gentle as he held her.

"Did it have to do with your father?" he pressed, hoping to gain at least a little insight into what was bothering her.

She shook her head again.

"Your mother?"

Again, no.

Finally Edward gave up. If she wanted to tell him, she would when she was ready, he hoped. He held her instead, trying to give her physical comfort since he could not talk to her about what had happened. He stroked his palms up and down her back in slow lines, rubbing gently, relishing the feel of her in his arms once again. He hadn't known if he would ever feel this, ever get to touch her, after she ran from him in the courtyard. But he'd known she would likely be angry with him for stealing her away, and he was prepared for it. He just hadn't known quite how much it would hurt, knowing she didn't want to see him.

Now she was back in his arms, where he wanted her to stay. Of course, once she calmed down there was no telling what would happen. If she ran from him, he would not stop her. If she ordered him away, he would go. But right now she was warm and soft, in need of comfort, and she was accepting it from him. The fact that he was the only other being around didn't enter his mind. He didn't wonder if she would rather have Esme or even a dog or kitten to cuddle rather than himself. All he knew was that she was here, with him, and she was holding him as tightly as her small human strength would allow. Nothing else mattered.

Finally her grip on him slowly began to change. It didn't loosen, but it altered in a way Edward could not entirely explain. He stroked her soft hair and down her back, still trying to comfort her, but her trembling didn't seem quite so scared anymore.

Realization hit him when she shifted slightly in his arms and the heady, tempting scent of her arousal wafted up to him. She pressed her mouth against his throat, and Edward swallowed hard.

"Bella, baby, I think we should talk - "

One warm hand came up to touch his mouth, her fingertips refusing his words. "No talking," she said. "Just - please, Edward. Please."

He was putty in her hands when she spoke like that, soft and warm and asking for him. He kissed her lips when she turned her head, and she pressed hard against him.

"Bella, please," he gasped, feeling the throbbing pulse of desire flood his body. The way she was writhing against him, he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. "Tell me you're all right. Give me that much, please."

"I'm fine," she said, and though Edward wasn't at all sure he believed her, he couldn't help himself any longer. She licked his lower lip and then drew it into her mouth, and that was it for him. He clutched her tightly, feeling how fragile her frail human body was in his arms. He would never forgive himself if he hurt her.

But that thought seemed far from Bella's mind as she huddled in his arms, her hands running under his collar and up the sleeves of his shirt. Edward peeled off the offending garment and tossed it away. Immediately Bella's hot little mouth was pressing kisses against his chest, her nose nuzzling his sparse chest hair. He swallowed again, forcing the venom down, keeping the monster at bay. No matter what, he would not - could not - hurt Bella.

"Touch me," she begged, her mouth leaving a warm, wet trail up his neck as she nibbled her way back to his mouth. "Touch me, please."

And even though he had no idea what had brought this on, or why she was asking, Edward obeyed. He was powerless when she asked him in that sweet, smoky voice, no matter how unsure he was about her reasons. He tugged on her nightgown, which was already hiked around her knees, and he drew it from her body.

Her skin instantly prickled with goosebumps, and Edward wrapped her pale form carefully in his blankets. "Let me make you a fire," he urged. "Sweet girl, you're cold."

"No." Her answer was firm, and she reached for him again. She was completely bare - he'd almost forgotten that he'd hidden her underwear so the waistband would not rub on her hip wound, but he certainly remembered now, when there was absolutely nothing between his eyes and her skin. A pale rose flush warmed her complexion, and Edward had to taste it. He bent his head and lapped at her stomach, hearing the racing pulse of her heartbeat and feeling each breath she took against his mouth. Something had frightened her, but all signs of fear were now gone, replaced with passion. She whimpered, this time with desire, and tugged his mouth back to hers.

 _Gentle, gentle, gentle._  Edward repeated the word over and over in his head. He had to remember to be gentle with her. The repercussions, were he to lose too much control, were unthinkable. He kissed her gently, then a little harder, feeling her desperate hands moving over his body. Everywhere she touched heated, warming and fueling his desire.

Her hands dropped to his belt and undid it, and her fingers inadvertently brushed against his erection. Edward didn't know whether to bless or curse the fashion trend of low, hip-hugging waistlines in that moment. But she didn't seem distressed - whether because she was too far gone to worry, or because she didn't realize what she had done, Edward didn't know. He managed to gather enough willpower to grasp her hands with his, stilling them for an instant. "Bella, honey, are you sure?" he asked, his voice as desperate as her touches. He didn't know what he would do if she said no. He didn't think of himself as a terribly passionate being, but when faced with a wanton Bella he was absolutely unable to control himself.

She nodded, tugging her wrists out of his loose grasp. "Love me, Edward," she said, her voice hoarse and needy. "Please, love me."

"I do," he said, but even as the words left his mouth he knew that wasn't what she meant. He undid his belt and stood to remove his pants and socks, fully intending to keep his boxers on for now. But Bella's soft hands were at his waistband when he turned back to her, and her lower lip was between her teeth as she tugged at his last remaining clothing.

"Please, please don't bite yourself," Edward said, moving his hand to tug her lip free. The momentary distraction gave her enough time to pull his boxers down - far enough, anyway, that there was no point in keeping them on anymore. She'd seen him, and there was no turning back.

Her eyes went wide when his erection sprang free, hard and insistent, but she didn't say anything and she didn't pull away. She looked up at Edward with an expression he could not decipher lurking in her dark eyes.

"Baby, I won't hurt you," he said quietly, sliding back onto the bed. "I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you."

"I know." She slid into his arms again, holding him close. Edward ran his hands down her bare back, feeling the little imperfections of scabs and scars her father left on her skin. He hoped his girl's sudden change in mood didn't have anything to do with that man. He had absolutely no doubt about what was going to happen between the two of them in this bed, and he wished there was a way to know that the act of consummating their love had nothing to do with Bella's fear of her father. But he could not read her mind, so he didn't know for sure. All Edward could do was hope.

She kissed him again, her movements becoming a little less desperate but no less sure. Her body squirmed against his in the most delicious way, and Edward could barely control himself. He managed to move them, settling Bella gently on her back as he lay on top of her, supporting his body so that his weight did not rest on her.

"Bella, I need to know that you're sure," he said, holding himself in check.

"I need you, Edward," she whispered. "Please."

That little 'please' was what did it. He could never refuse her when she spoke like that. Edward sighed a little. This wasn't how he had imagined their first time, but he couldn't deny Bella...or his body...any longer. He kissed his way down her throat, doing his best to ignore the tempting rush of blood just below the tender skin, and found a nipple with his mouth.

She tasted as sweet as he remembered, and a new flood of desire washed through him as he suckled gently at her flesh, his hands holding him off of her body. She twisted, her body moving beneath his, and his erection brushed against her stomach.

Bella froze, her eyes wide. Edward froze, too, unsure whether this was the catalyst - the action that would send her running.

But she didn't run. She blinked several times and took a deep breath, and reached for him. Her hands found his shoulders, guiding him back to her mouth. "Just do it," she whispered against his lips. "Please. I don't want to be afraid anymore."

It seemed as reasonable as anything else in their twisted, unreasonable world. Edward slid a hand slowly down her stomach and across her abdomen, relishing the soft warmth of her body. "I need to see if your body is ready first," he said, as he combed softly through the small patch of curls at the juncture of her legs. She shifted, allowing him access, though Edward was fully aware of the frantic fluttering of her heart.

Yes, she was more than ready. He groaned quietly when he felt the hot wetness coat his fingers, and he stroked her most tender flesh with a slow, careful motion. He found her entrance and rested the tip of one finger there, swirling ever so gently. "I can't do this unless you show me you want me to," he said, dropping his head and kissing her stomach gently. "Help me, Bella, if you really want this."

She was breathing in quick little pants and he knew perfectly well that she was still afraid of this act, but she opened her legs a little wider and pushed down slightly against his hand. Edward felt his finger press into her, just a little bit at first, and he held an unnecessary breath in his lungs as he pressed forward a little further. She was tight and hot and wet - absolutely perfect. He heard her breath catch in her throat, and he immediately stilled his hand.

"Does it hurt, Bella, sweetheart?" he asked, panic starting to find him. Had she misjudged her ability to handle this?

"N-no," she stuttered, gasping a little. "Just strange..."

"Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head slightly. "I want you to try for real."

"Are you sure?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. Edward withdrew his finger slowly and adjusted his position. Bella's legs slowly slid to either side of his hips. As he settled against the inside of her thighs he felt her body tense, and he stopped.

"Bella, you have to relax. It will hurt if you can't relax and go with it."

She took several more breaths and Edward moved a hand, slowly rubbing her muscles until he felt them relax against him. He positioned himself, knowing his undead heart would be beating so fast it would hum, if it were still alive.

"I'll go slow," he said. "You tell me if it hurts."

She didn't nod, but Edward hadn't really expected her to. Her eyes were closed, and while he ached to see her expression he didn't force her to open them. If that little bit of distance made her more comfortable, he wasn't going to argue. Slowly he pushed forward, gasping as the head of his cock was enveloped by her warmth.

"Bella?" he managed to ask, trying not to groan. His body ached to thrust, but he forced himself to hold still for Bella's sake.

"More," she whispered, the word no more than a breath falling from her mouth.

He pushed slowly into her, watching her tense face the entire time. She felt amazing around him - the heat of her skin was nothing compared to being inside her. He could feel every shift and quiver of her muscles gripping his length, so much more intimate than her arms which were currently holding his shoulders.

"More," she whispered again, and a ripple of desire bled through her, resulting in a sudden rock of her hips into his. Edward moved with her, gently sliding out and then back in, moving as slowly as he could.

Their pace remained slow, never turning into the kind of violently passionate thrusting Emmett thought was so funny to watch in porn videos. Edward kissed her carefully, trying to remember her need to breathe as her hips rocked with his, easily falling into a twinned rhythm. He could tell by her little gasps and whimpers of pleasure that she was physically fine, but he hoped her head was also all right. There was no way to tell - she wouldn't talk to him, and she kept her eyes closed most of the time. Her mouth wandered away from his, moving to his jaw and then his ear, nibbling at the lobe and then licking the sensitive spot behind it. Edward groaned, pushing against her just a little harder.

Bella responded eagerly, her legs hesitantly wrapping around him, pulling him deeper. She twitched and quivered, her inner walls tensing around him, and Edward thought she was probably close. He reached between them to rub her clit gently, and for the first time, he was inside Bella when she exploded.

Her muscles pulled at him in a way he couldn't describe, and the soft noises she made threw him quickly over the edge. He came, thrusting a little harder, reaching deep inside her warm body. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, making love with Bella. She was his everything. He already knew that, but this act cemented it even deeper inside of him. "I love you, sweetheart," he murmured, gathering her sweaty body close to his own. He flipped them over, letting her rest on top of him, relishing the heat she radiated.

"Thank you," she whispered, nuzzling his throat.

Bella fell asleep quickly, and Edward took the opportunity to build a fire for her. He dressed her sleeping body carefully in her nightgown once again, pausing to check on her wounds. They were doing fine, and he hoped he'd be able to give her her clothes back in another couple of days. Taking them had not made him feel good, but he knew perfectly well that she wouldn't listen to him if he just asked her not to wear things with a waistband.

Now he bundled her tightly in the blankets, wishing he could hold her body close to his but not wanting a repeat of the bathtub fiasco. He settled for holding her above the pile of blankets, watching and listening as she slept soundly. She did not talk in her sleep at all, but he still loved watching her eyes flutter under her lids. He wondered whether she was dreaming about him.

All too soon dawn began to break over the low, hilly countryside. Edward sighed. He had no idea what kind of mood Bella would be in once she woke. They couldn't go back to the way things had been, but would that be a good thing? Edward didn't know. He decided to go downstairs and make breakfast for her, having it ready when she woke. If he brought it to her in bed, she couldn't very well turn it down, could she?

He kissed her cheek, her pale eyelids, and her mouth as carefully as possible before backing out of the room. Elation filled him, and he couldn't stop the smile that broke over his expressive mouth. He didn't know what had changed, but something had. Something had made Bella turn to him, and he'd been there for her. He had no idea what had prompted their passionate tryst, but he wasn't going to question it. It had been absolutely perfect - maybe not quite the setting or the time he had imagined, but Bella's sweet scent and warm body were beyond words.

As he scrambled eggs and buttered toast, Edward couldn't keep the smile from his face. Things had to change now, and he rather hoped the change would be for the better. He and Bella could repair their relationship. They could explore this overcast island as much as she wanted - do anything she wished. He'd love to see his clumsy girl try to ride a horse. Well, maybe a little pony, Edward revised. Something not too tall, for when she inevitably fell. They could see as many shows as Bella wanted in London's West End, and browse untold numbers of bookshops. They could fix this place up with some real electricity - enough to power an entertainment system - and spend their evenings watching BBC movies and eating popcorn. Well, Bella could eat popcorn. If they had popcorn over here. It was an American foodstuff, but Edward figured it ought to be universal by now.

Head full of all the things they could do now that Bella was speaking to him again, Edward put her breakfast on the usual tray and headed upstairs. He opened the door to his room, only to find it empty.

Bella was gone.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes were taken from The Worm Ouroboros by Eric Rucker Eddison, and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

Heidi stared wistfully at the large house before her as she pulled into the driveway. She was really not looking forward to this discussion. Everything she knew about the Cullens told her that this was a warm, loving family. Her previous visit had only reinforced that image. She didn't want to disturb them. There were very few couples willing to accept teenagers into their homes, and Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had welcomed five of them, plus the new baby. All of the children Heidi had met earlier were polite and well-spoken, which said a lot about the family's parenting. Many children from the system could only be rehabilitated to a certain point; anything beyond that was impossible. Their early years left too many scars, too much disillusionment. They knew too much for their years, and what they knew told them that being polite and kind got them nowhere.

How the senior Cullens managed to break through those walls with their teenagers, Heidi didn't know. She knew it wasn't simply dumb luck, knew the Cullen parents hadn't just managed to get five amazingly well-adjusted kids with little to no baggage. She saw those scars on the blond boy's arms, and she'd seen the wariness in his sister's eyes, even before she'd heard a little of the girl's story. These kids had known darkness. But they weren't broken by it. Something about this family had helped them heal.

Which was why Heidi resolutely did not want to be here, digging into their private life and asking them personal questions. But she really had no other option. Isabella's father had called yesterday, and he'd had some very disturbing things to say. Things Heidi did not want to hear. She had no doubt that someone had hurt that girl very badly, but whether it was her father or not remained to be seen. She needed to talk to the Cullens again, and more than anything, she needed to talk to Bella herself. But Chief Swan claimed that the Cullens had stolen Bella and hidden her away somewhere. Heidi doubted it. Dr. Cullen really didn't seem like the type to go against the law like that. But Heidi needed to know for sure.

She got out of her car slowly, closing the door as quietly as possible. She didn't have children of her own, but her sister did and she knew the slam of a car door was enough to wake a lightly-sleeping baby. Adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder, she took a deep breath and headed for the porch.

Dr. Cullen opened the door before she could knock, and his smile was calm and welcoming, as always.

"Come in, come in," he said, waving her inside. "It's about to start raining again any minute."

"Welcome," his wife added, slipping into the foyer and giving Heidi a warm smile. "It's wonderful to see you again. Mason's down for his nap and the other kids are at school."

"Lucky you caught me on a day off," Dr. Cullen added as he closed the door. "My schedule at the hospital's been a tad crazy lately. There just aren't enough of us - budget cuts, and all. I'm sure you understand."

"I do," Heidi agreed. She couldn't help but smile at this couple. They were the dream parents, the ones every social worker fantasized about finding for her clients. Though Dr. Cullen's hand was cold when she shook it, their every word and movement exuded warmth. Their children were very, very lucky. "I need to apologize for the short notice, too, but there are some things we need to discuss that just couldn't wait."

"Come in and sit down, then," Mrs. Cullen said, motioning Heidi toward the living room. Not for the first time, Heidi noticed how immaculate it looked. Mrs. Cullen worked from home, but she obviously took great pains in keeping the house nice as well. "Tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you," Heidi said quickly. It was always harder to discuss difficult topics when she was holding a gift of hospitality, like coffee, in her hand. "Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, I'd like to get straight to the point."

"Carlisle and Esme, please," Dr. Cullen said. "We're not much for formality. And I very much prefer plain speaking. It makes everything so much easier."

Heidi agreed. "All right, then," she said, taking a breath and laying her bag on her knees. She took out Isabella's case file, a yellow pad of lined paper, and a pen. "I received a call from Chief Swan yesterday."

Carlisle and Esme shared a glance that Heidi could not interpret, but she did not feel either of them tense up. That was good.

"He had many things to say."

"He often does," Esme murmured.

"Usually the official course of action with domestic disputes is to keep the separate parties separate. But there's nothing usual about this case, and I want to be as honest with you as I can about his...concerns."

"We appreciate that," Carlisle said quietly. "We'll do our best to be forthright with you, as well."

Heidi let out a soft sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said. "I'd hoped you would."

"Anything for Bella and Mason." Esme's words were heartfelt.

"I need to inform you, then, that Chief Swan has made some very disturbing claims regarding both his daughter and the baby."

"I'm not at all surprised." Esme's face closed over, looking both tired and angry. "What has he said?"

"He wants the adoption annulled and his grandson turned over to his care."

"On what grounds?" Carlisle asked, his voice still quiet, though not quite as calm.

"On the grounds that Bella falsified information, and that you knew about it."

Carlisle and Esme gave each other another speaking glance. They were sitting on either side of Heidi on the big white couch, and she could not see both of their faces at the same time. She wished she could. It would make this so much easier. She prided herself on being an excellent judge of character, but in this case she felt adrift.

"I know of several lies Bella has told," Carlisle said finally. "All for understandable reasons. What information, exactly, is the chief talking about?"

"He claims that Jacob Black is not Mason's birth father."

There was another speaking glance. Then Carlisle took a deliberate deep breath and let it out. "I suspected," he said, "but I will not claim to have known for sure."

"What made you suspect?" Heidi asked. She was willing to bet that the Cullens knew more than they were letting on in this case, but she was also more than willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. If they had withheld information, it was for one of two reasons. Either they felt it was in Bella's best interests, or she had asked them to do so. Heidi could blame them for neither. That poor girl - after watching that video Carlisle took of her admitting to abuse...Heidi herself wanted to do whatever was in her power to help, and she hardly knew Bella.

"On the video, she refused to answer any questions about sexual abuse," Carlisle said steadily. Heidi recognized the tone of his voice. It was his clinical voice, his doctor's voice. Not a father's voice. That somehow made her feel better. If Carlisle were as troubled as all that, to not be able to talk about Bella's trouble as a friend of the family, then surely whatever he did - if, indeed, anything - stemmed from caring, nothing more. "And then, later, she sent us a note. It's private, and I don't want to share the whole of it, but I will read you part of it, if you wish?"

"Please," Heidi said quickly.

Carlisle opened a slim little drawer in the coffee table and drew out a creased piece of notebook paper. "I won't give this to you," he said, reinforcing his earlier words. "I know you want to help, but Bella is a very private girl and I want her privacy respected as much as possible. She said some things to members of my family in this letter that are for their ears only."

"I have no wish to hurt Bella or make her mistrust me," Heidi said honestly. "I just want the germane facts."

Carlisle nodded a little and looked at the paper. He cleared his throat and started reading. "'Dear Cullen family. Words cannot express how grateful I am for all you have done for me, or how much I care for you. You've shown me what a real family is supposed to be like, and let me be a part of yours for a short time. It's meant more to me than I can tell you. Please don't worry about me. I left of my own free will, and I did it for a good reason. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I just didn't know how to say it. I feel so ashamed, and afraid. It's best that I go, both so Charlie won't hurt you, and so you don't have to pretend to still like me once you know the full truth. But where to begin? It's so hard to know how to say these things, even now.'"

"Wait a moment," Heidi said, holding up a hand. "Can you explain what she's talking about?"

"We already told you that some of our children found Bella unconscious in the woods one night and brought her here. We kept her with us for a few days to make sure she was unhurt. That was when we made the tape you saw, and started putting calls in to CPS," Esme said quietly, glancing at her husband. "Bella left us the note some time later, after she gave us the baby."

"Is that why it sounds like a runaway note?" Heidi pressed. "Do you know where Bella is?"

"No," Carlisle said on a wistful sigh. "We don't. She's been missing for some time now."

"Charlie thinks you took her."

"I'm not surprised," Carlisle replied. "But we didn't. You're free to search the house, if you wish. Bella isn't here."

"That isn't necessary; I believe you." Heidi hadn't been sure before, but now, sitting with the Cullens, she knew they were not hiding the girl from her father. The fact that they admitted doing so for a few days, and that they were being honest about it, eased her mind. "Please continue?"

Carlisle did. "'I guess I should start back last summer. Charlie had to go to a training program in Seattle, and he took me with him because he doesn't trust me to be alone. We shared a hotel suite with other police officers from around the state. Some of the guys would...say stuff to me, and touch me. Charlie said I wasn't being friendly when I flinched, and I'd be in big trouble if I didn't knock it off.

"'One day one of the guys from Tacoma - an old friend of Charlie's - came back when everyone else was gone. I don't want to talk about it, so please don't make me say any more than that. He said I'd be in trouble if I told. I tried to tell Charlie that evening, but he hit me and told me to stop telling lies. The next day the officer from Tacoma returned...with friends. Charlie must have told him what I said. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier when you asked, but I just want to forget it ever happened. I can't deal with it, and I don't want people to know. I hate when they look at me like my life is over because of this one thing. Maybe they're right, but I keep thinking that if I could start over somewhere, if Charlie let me live, I could maybe just forget it. And if nobody ever knew, then it would be like it never happened.'"

Heidi closed her eyes. This was worse than she had feared. Carlisle's clinical voice reading the young girl's frightened words was eerie and macabre. Poor baby. Heidi knew full well that victims did not often lie about the identity of their abuser, once they had gathered the courage to step forward. So though Chief Swan flatly denied Bella's allegations and called her a conniving little liar, Heidi was not particularly disposed to believe him.

But these new accusations from Bella made it even more vital that they get to the bottom of whatever was going on in the Swan and Cullen households. Bella was clearly talking about a brutal rape - by police officers, no less. And she claimed that her father, also a police officer, had known and done nothing to stop it. While Bella did not actually come out and say that this unknown assailant had fathered her child, it was clear why Carlisle was suspicious. If it was true, Jacob Black must be quite a good friend in order to take the blame. But why had Bella felt the need to lie to the state in the first place? Why hadn't she told Heidi the truth when they first met?

Heidi knew the answer to that one, and she felt her stomach sink. Chief Swan had not allowed her to speak to Bella alone, and of course the child would be far too afraid of her father to admit the truth with him listening in.  _Of course_  she had lied. And Heidi, swayed by Chief Swan's title and badge, had not pressed the issue any farther. She felt a vein of guilt slide uneasily through her belly as she thought about that day in the hospital when she first met Isabella Swan. The girl's eyes had been so tired, so wary...her soft, hesitant voice had been little more than a whisper. All the warning signs had been there, everything Heidi had been trained to look for. And she'd let the chief blind her. Because of that, Bella had spent months more living in her father's shadow, terrified. And it had been Heidi's fault.

A cold hand suddenly slid over Heidi's and she blinked herself back to the present, where she sat on a soft white couch in a warm, elegant living room. Esme's lovely golden eyes were sad but steady as she squeezed Heidi's hand. "Don't blame yourself," she said quietly. "What's done is done. Let's move forward together, and try to help Bella."

Heidi nodded. Of course, that was what they needed to do. But what would that entail? The most important thing, from her perspective, was finding Bella. "I appreciate your forthrightness with me," she said honestly. "More than I can say. So many times in my line of work I find people who, for whatever reason, think hiding the truth is better than telling it. So please, I need to know once and for all - do you have any idea where Bella is?"

They both shook their heads at the same time, with no hint of any hesitation. Heidi believed them.

"She left after bringing us the baby," Esme said softly. "We got the note, and that was all. I know she hasn't been at school, and the kids are very worried about her. So are we. She's been hurt so much, and I'm just afraid that she doesn't think anyone can help her."

"I know this is hard to hear if you're close to her at all," Heidi said hesitantly, "but have either of you seen any indication that Bella might be suicidal?"

"I understand why you would ask." Carlisle sat back, the note in his hands. "Wrapping up loose ends, writing notes - it's typical red flags, I'm aware. But I just can't believe Bella would go that far. If nothing else, she hates hurting other people. I mean, really hates it. She knows what it would do to our family if she killed herself, and regardless of how she feels, she wouldn't do that to us."

Esme nodded reluctantly. "I wish I could give a better answer - tell you she was too strong, too much of a fighter to give in like that. But I have to agree with my husband. Bella won't commit suicide, and Carlisle's right about the reason."

Heidi nodded. She'd seen it before, though not often. Most of the time the kids she saw were mistrustful and did not care about who they hurt. But every once in a while she found one like Bella - usually a girl. One too selfless to make good decisions for herself. One so used to thinking of others that she didn't know how to take care of herself.

"We need to find her," Heidi said quietly.

"I agree." Esme sounded near tears.

"Would she go to her mother, do you think? I heard what she said about her life in Arizona in that video, but I can't help wondering whether she would run to something familiar, even if it wasn't necessarily much better than her father's house."

"I called Renee soon after Bella left," Carlisle said. "She said Bella wasn't with her, and I believe her."

"Can I have her number?" Heidi uncapped her pen. "I'd like to double-check."

Carlisle readily gave her a phone number, readily mentioning that it was a cell phone and Renee was, indeed, living out of an RV for the moment, as far as he knew.

"I don't know when or if we'll ever see Bella again," Esme said hesitantly, "but for what it's worth, we'd take her in a heartbeat. I know it's hard to place children as old as she is, and she's so very shy. But we'd take her, even as just a foster while her father goes to trial. If he goes to trial," she corrected herself quickly.

"I've no doubt you would," Heidi said. "And I thank you for that. When we find her," she stressed the  _when_ , for Esme's benefit, "she will need a lot of help to heal from whatever's been done to her. Familiar faces would be an invaluable asset."

"And her father?" Carlisle prodded gently.

Heidi sighed. "Taking on a chief of police is way out of my league," she said. "I'm going to have to call in the big guns on this one."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the Washington State Patrol."

"State Patrol?" Esme raised a dubious eyebrow. "Aren't they just highway traffic enforcers?"

"No, though that is the function you'd see most often." Heidi made more notations on her sheet. "They're the state police - the ones you call when the regular police don't cut it for some reason. They deal with missing persons and Amber Alerts as well. I have some contacts over there, and we'll do our best to get the chief taken care of and Bella home as soon as possible." She paused. "It won't be quick, though. I'm just warning you - taking down a police chief isn't going to be easy or tidy."

"We'll do all we can," Carlisle said quietly, and Esme nodded. "Just tell us what needs to be done, and we'll do what we can."

"The most important thing is finding Bella." Heidi capped her pen and slid her papers back into her bag. This had been an easier discussion than she'd feared. "If you hear from here, please, please contact me right away, and try to convince her to come home. We won't send her back to her father, not while he's under investigation."

"And Mason?" Esme's voice was close to a whisper. Heidi could hear the fear behind those words, and she hastened to soothe it.

"I see no reason to annul the adoption or remove him from your home," she said. "I won't lie to you - there may be a fight later on, if someone challenges on the grounds that you're too close to the situation, too involved. But I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't come to that."

"Thank you," Carlisle said, offering his cold hand. "It means a great deal to know Bella has someone on her side, finally."

"She needs an advocate." Heidi stood and shouldered her bag. She had quite a few phone calls to make. Setting up the takedown of Charlie Swan would not be easy. But she owed it to Bella - that and much, much more, for not having started an inquiry in the first place. "I'll do all I can."

"I know you will," Esme said, guiding her to the door. "And thank you."

* * *

Bella shook all day, trembling as she tried to keep her mind on her self-imposed work. But after the fourth time she found herself scrubbing the same section of floor, she gave up. Leaving her bucket and rags where they were, she retreated not to her room, but to the room with the uncomfortable green settee where she had hidden before, on her first fully awake day at Ellison House. Burying her head against the carved wooden side, she let herself cry.

She had no idea what had prompted her to do what she did last night, what made her seek out not only Edward's arms but his body. She'd been frightened, yes. Terrified. But that was no excuse, in her mind. She was always afraid. What had changed, this time? Was it merely that she was alone in this place, by herself, without anyone else except Edward? Had she snapped from the loneliness? Bella didn't know.

She remembered getting out of the bath and dressing for sleep, then sitting in the giant bed and waiting. For the first time since she'd been here, sleep did not come easy. Whether it was the exercise keeping her awake or something else, Bella didn't know. All she knew was that she sat for a long time in the darkness, seeing shadows move as the wind whipped clouds over the moon, hearing the creaks and pops of the old, old house settling around her. Just feeling all those empty rooms full of the discarded remnants of so many lives made her shiver. It was more than unsettling - it was frightening. Slowly, in the darkness, her imagination got the best of her. Every little sound magnified in her mind - the rattle of her window in the breeze, the creak of wood as it contracted in the cold night air. Vampires she did not fear - not now that she had seen them, felt them, knew what they were like. But if vampires existed, what other nightmarish creatures might, as well? Werewolves? Zombies? Ghosts?

The last idea sent a shiver down Bella's spine. As a child she had laughed in the face of violent specters like werewolves. Her real world contained her father, which she found just as violent and much more frightening than any overgrown puppy. But ghosts? Ghosts were something else altogether. They weren't violent, necessarily. But they were frightening all the same. They did not make noise. They crept, they slid - you would not hear them coming. And unlike vampires or zombies, there was no telling exactly what they wanted with you. Just to cause fear? If so, it was working. This was the perfect sort of place for ghosts, Bella thought. So old, old and forgotten. Abandoned. Fear stirred within her at the thought of just how many ghosts might have taken up residence in this place. How many? Bella didn't know. But even one was too many for her. Vampires she could handle. She really didn't care what the Cullens ate; they were good people. She didn't think anything could possibly make her like a ghost, though.

And all those thoughts whirling in her head had created a perfect storm of fear. Grimacing now as she remembered, Bella hid her head against the settee. But hiding her eyes did nothing to stop the pictures in her head as she recalled dropping from her bed and running out of the room - away from the eyes she felt watching her, from the feeling that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise. But the hallway had been no better, and she had collapsed with her back against the wall, hiding her face in her arms and hoping that the ghosts of Carlisle's old house would take pity on her and leave her alone.

Then Edward had come.

The relief of another person's presence was overwhelming, and Bella remembered clutching his cold body tightly to hers, begging him not to leave her alone. She hated herself for it now, for being so weak. But things that happened in the dark of night couldn't always be explained rationally in the daytime. She understood that well enough.

But she could not forgive herself for what she had done.

She had essentially taken advantage of him, after ignoring him for weeks. She had forced herself on him, and Edward had not refused her. Now, stomach churning unhappily, Bella had to live with the consequences of her actions. She'd woken confused and disoriented, swathed in Edward's sweet scent, with a mild headache and a delicious sort of ache elsewhere in her body. The indent of Edward's body on the bed was clear, and Bella swallowed heavily as bits and pieces of the night before slid back into her memory.

Then she had done something that was possibly even more unforgivable. She ran.

She ran out of his room, out of the house, and sat trembling against the stone wall for a long time, shivering in the early morning chill. It was late fall - damp and cold. For a long time she sat, wondering if Edward would come looking for her.

He had not.

So finally she forced herself inside, forgoing breakfast and instead trying to work out her confusion the only way she was able - by cleaning. But it just wasn't working.

God, she wanted Esme. Or Rosalie. Either would work at this point. She wanted an older female to hold her, to rock her gently and explain everything she was feeling in a way that made sense. Because none of it made sense to her, and there was no one to help her through it.

She was still angry with Edward - that had not changed. But through the anger, she was now starting to feel some doubt. Yes, he had stolen her. Drugged her, even, to keep her quiet as he kidnapped her. But he'd done it out of love, hadn't he? For her own good?

Bella remembered the sweet tenderness of his amber eyes when he looked at her - how he'd rescued her from Alice's ministrations, and promised that she would always be safe with him. The innocent way he asked what comprised her perfect day in Forks, before he knew the extent of her father's abuse. Her body yearned for his - not just sexually, but in every way possible. She felt safe when he was near her. Protected. Wanted. She loved watching his mouth move as he spoke, loved hearing his voice vibrate down her spine when he whispered against her skin. She wanted everything he was - wanted to be whatever he needed her to be. The fact that he was a vampire really didn't bother her in the least.

But no matter how much she enjoyed being cuddled and held in his strong grasp, Bella could not deny that her body wanted his. She craved his mouth, adored how it felt when she let herself go and really felt his skin against hers. His cool, smooth kiss made her body ache, and the way his eyes darkened when he caught the scent of her left her putty in his hands.

So it was no real surprise to her that, under the stress of extreme loneliness, she gave in to the feel of his body against hers. She only wished that this first time - the first time she willingly gave her body to another person - hadn't ended up so confusing. Bella knew full well that she was not a prissy girl. She didn't want scented candles and satin sheets, didn't want ridiculous lingerie or romantic ballads playing in the background. But she  _had_  wanted...she didn't know. Something else. Something other than this. Something other than waking up alone the next morning, confusion and fear lancing through her foggy brain. Something other than running from the person she wanted to trust more than anyone else in the world.

So what had happened? Bella banged her forehead against the settee several times in frustration, because she still had no answer to the question. She could say that she'd been frightened of ghosts, that she'd wanted Edward's body for some time now, and that she ran because she was confused. But that didn't seem like a good enough answer - it didn't seem like a full answer. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either.

This was when she desperately craved the presence of an older woman to help her muddle through the riot of emotions and make sense of everything. Esme or Rosalie could tell her in an instant what she was missing, she was sure. Why had Edward taken them away from her, just when she felt she needed them most?

But... Bella sat up, wiping her eyes. She'd left them first. It wasn't a revelation - she'd willingly admitted to leaving first, never denied it. But what if...what if they took offense, even after her letter? What if they truly didn't want her anymore?

Her thoughts had been eased on that point when Edward came for her, and she hadn't really worried about it since waking up in Ellison House. But he was the only Cullen she had seen or heard from since then. What if he was the only one who still wanted her? What if he had removed her from Forks because the rest of his family had washed their hands of her? Bella felt a bright, hot seam of panic rip through her chest, and she bolted hastily from the room. Running along dusty hallways she had not yet cleaned, tears blurring her vision but not falling, she searched for Edward's scent. She wasn't quite clear about exactly where he'd taken her last night - his room, presumably, though where that was in relation to her, she didn't know. Not that she was thinking rationally enough to retrace her steps, anyway. Her breath caught in her throat as she twisted through a doorway and then down a flight of steps, cobwebs clinging to her face and outstretched arms. She tripped, arms windmilling, and fell down the rest of the short stairway.

Catching her breath at the bottom of the stairs, Bella finally found what she'd been searching for. Not Edward, but at least the smoky-sweet scent that told her he'd been here fairly recently. She had no doubt his senses were far more acute than hers, but she could still smell when he'd been near. Scrubbing cobwebs furiously from her face, Bella scrambled to her feet and eased open the door in front of her.

It was a library.

Her breath caught - not in pain this time, but in awe. The room was two stories tall, and the shelves reached to the ceiling. Tall windows stood on either side of a massive fireplace, the hearth cold and dark. Bella looked for a lightswitch but found none. There were several oil lamps coated thickly with dust, though. She wondered if they would work if she managed to clean them and find fuel.

She stepped further into the room, her brown eyes big and wide as she gazed around her. She couldn't see much in the fitful light spilling in through the door, and she hesitantly stepped toward the drapes. They felt like old velvet in her hands, heavy and stiff, and dust fell in drifts, making her sneeze, as she tugged experimentally on a pale gold tasseled cord. With a stiff, unhappy screech, the drapery moved slowly aside. The overcast daylight looked bright as June in the dark room, and Bella quickly opened the other set of drapes as well. Light flooded, sharp and cool, into the corners of the room. Now that she could see, Bella took a proper look around.

What she saw made it hard to breathe again. Books, books everywhere. A catwalk ringed the upper level, with a small, curly metal staircase hiding in one corner, giving access to the upper level. It looked rather like there were proper shelves and aisles up there, though the lower level was just a large room absolutely walled with books. Cedar chests sat below the tall windows, and Bella wondered what was in them. It was clear that a painting had once hung above the tall mantel - there was a rectangle of brighter wall, where soot and daylight had not darkened or faded it. Bella wondered what the picture had been of, and why it had been removed. Had Edward done so? Carlisle? Her fingers itched to touch the bounty of books, but Bella held herself back for a few minutes, taking deep breaths of their comforting smell. Even in this old house so far away from everything she knew, the smell was the same. Slightly sweet, slightly vanilla - smell of dust, and paper, and glue, and leather bindings. Maybe a hint of old mildew, powdered and dry.

The familiar, beloved smell helped calm her, and Bella sighed happily, feeling her heart settling down. Here, surrounded by books that were just waiting to become new friends, she didn't need to worry about whether Esme and Rosalie had given up on her. She didn't need to worry about what Edward might think of her now that she had thrown herself at him and then run away. Her head swirled with the possibility of losing herself in this room and never coming out again - not until Edward let her go home, at least. There were enough books here to last a lifetime, and then some, even at the rate she read.

Taking a breath, Bella bit her lip, chewing on it as she thought. She wanted to clean this room up, get it looking beautiful. She would make it hers, since nobody seemed to want it. Poor things, she thought, looking at a row of books covered in thick layers of dust and cobweb. They'd been forgotten. Abandoned. Well, she wouldn't do the same. She hurried from the room, leaving the door wide open and committing the route from the library to the kitchen to memory. Grabbing new rags and the second bucket, she mixed a soapy solution and lugged the heavy mess back to the library.

Humming happily, Bella dampened - just barely dampened - a rag and began her task. Luckily there was a rolling library ladder to help her reach the higher shelves. More content than she could remember ever being in this house, Bella took great care of each book. She pulled each from its shelf, wiping down every inch, then stacked the books carefully on a dusty rug. After a shelf was cleared she dusted and cleaned it before returning the books in exactly the same order in which she found them. She dripped a little water into a dried-up inkwell she found in the drawer of a desk, and that seemed to make an ink that worked well enough. With thick parchment and a little metal-nibbed pen, she scribbled a hasty inventory of the books shelf by shelf, so she knew where things were in case she ever tried to find them again. Only then did she allow herself a few minutes to browse each clean shelf, opening books she'd never heard of and reading bits and pieces, tempted to read on but knowing other books needed her attention, too. From one shelf she pulled something called  _The Worm Ouroboros_ , opened it randomly, and read aloud, murmuring words that made a thrill of delight run up and down her spine: "'O Queen, somewhat I know of grammarie and divine philosophy, yet must I bow to thee for such learning, that dwellest here from generation to generation and dost commune with the dead.'" Had there ever been anything more likely to make one think of ghosts? Bella thought not.

Every once in a while, Bella came across titles or authors that she had either read or heard of. That made her smile, and she touched each of those books even more reverently, as if meeting again with an old friend. "'There was no possibility of taking a walk that day,'" Bella quoted to herself softly as she took down what looked to be a first-edition of  _Jane Eyre_. Close by were a cluster of Austen novels, and more Bronte. All of it made her smile widely.

And then she found them. Tucked away on the lowest shelf in a dark corner under the overhanging catwalk were a row of identical books bound in black leather. Curious, Bella took the first from its shelf, dutifully dusted it with the damp cloth, and opened it. The binding was firm - very unusual for something as old as it looked - and it snapped and cracked like a new book in her hands. At first she thought she must have damaged it, but after further inspection it looked as if these books simply had not been opened often.

Turning the pages, Bella realized why. They were diaries. Carlisle's diaries. And they dated back to the 1700's. Her hands shook a little as she stared at words that probably had not been read since the patriarch of the Cullen family wrote them centuries ago. For a moment she thought about putting the book away. Surely they were private? Resolutely, she began cleaning the rest of them. But her hands itched as each new, thick book of Carlisle's words was added to the pile. And when the shelf was clean, she couldn't help herself any longer. She chose a volume near the middle of the stack, carefully placing the others back on the shelf and marking where the one in her hands belonged. Opening it at random, she read.

_I did not know I could do it until I tried, and even now both elation and hunger war within me. I did not know how strongly the taste of human blood would affect me, but now I do. Pulling back from that poor boy's throat was the hardest thing I have ever done._

_Whomever might find these books, sometime in the future - you may think of me what you will. I offer no false pretenses as to what I am and the sins I have committed. But please believe me when I say this: I would not have bitten the boy but for his mother's plea. I am a doctor. I am sworn to uphold the sanctity of human life and relieve human suffering. And she was a pretty thing, even in the last stages of influenza. Her husband already dead, all she had left was her only child. Her son. She begged me to do everything in my power - everything I could - to save him. Her pretty green eyes were wild with fever, and I do not know whether she knew I was a doctor. The way she raved, I am more than a little afraid she thought she was making a deal with the devil._

_But I have been to Hell and back, and I have seen no devil. It is my belief he lives only within human hearts._

_I agreed with everything she wanted, if only to stop her raving. I didn't think about it then, did not realize exactly what I had vowed. She fell into a fitful sleep and died soon after, her son too ill to mourn her. It was only then, standing over him, that I knew what I had done. I had promised a dead woman that I would save her son by any means necessary. An unbreakable vow, some might say. And the boy was fading fast. He was not raving and thrashing like his mother, but lay there quietly burning - spent, his body too weak to fight the specter of death looming over his bed. Medicine has grown astonishingly during my long lifetime, but even now in 1918 there is nothing any doctor could do to save the boy._

_And so it was not the doctor, but the vampire, that rescued him. If rescue it truly is. I moved him to a secluded part of the hospital, where the smell of so many humans in such close proximity would not tempt me so badly. There it was that I bit him._

_Judge me all you like, you reader of the future, but I could not break my promise to his mother and there was nothing else I could do to save him. I know nothing of the person he was before the influenza outbreak, or what kind of person he will be after the change. He may turn out to be a companion, which I would gladly welcome. After leaving Italy, life has been...lonely. I have colleagues, patients...but no one can know the truth of what I am, and I have to keep moving, always moving, always watching to see when people will start to notice my differences. It would be nice to have a friend._

_But I am getting ahead of myself. He thrashes now, where he did not before. The poison is flowing through his body, changing it, making it something other than human. I have seen this happen before, but never have I been the cause. The doctor in me wishes to inject him full of opiates, to immerse him in cold water, but the vampire understands that none of this will help. He opens his mouth as if too scream, but it is too dry to make a sound. When he wakes, which will be soon, will he revile me for what I have done to him? Will he expose our secret? Will he try to kill himself, as I tried so many times, only to learn that it is impossible?_

_Only time can tell. Already he is pale as death, his pleasantly boyish features turning sharper, more defined. I lifted an eyelid a few moments ago to check pupil reaction. His irises are red. It will not be long now. It will be easy enough to dress him as an orderly and sneak him off the ward, but where we will go then I do not know. Somewhere without humans. Somewhere he can recover and learn control, as I have learned it. I did not change him merely to unleash another murderer on this Earth. No - he must learn to feed on animals, as I learned. It is not the easy way. But it is the right way. I pray he will see that._

Bella stopped there, her mind in a daze. This boy Carlisle spoke of...it was Edward. She had no doubt. Though she did not know the details of his life, she knew it had to be him. Esme had said at one point that Carlisle already had Edward with him before he changed her. Edward was the first, Carlisle's first son and companion.

The enormity of the realization made Bella sit back, leaning on a shelf and letting the book close gently in her lap. Edward's parents had died during the Spanish Influenza outbreak in the early 1900's. She vaguely remembered hearing about it in history class. People had died in droves, and nobody knew why. Doctors could do little - people either died or recovered. Mostly they died.

And Edward had been one of the casualties.

No, not really. Not quite. Carlisle had saved him, at his mother's request. She had had green eyes, Carlisle wrote. Had Edward, once upon a time? When he was human? Her heart suddenly ached for the scared boy in the hospital who probably had no idea where his parents were, whether they were alive or dead, or whether he would also succumb to the sickness depopulating his city. Something of that boy still remained in the quiet man she knew as Edward. She'd seen him.

And Carlisle? So many questions flooded Bella's mind. How had he been changed, and why? When had he lived in Italy, and for what reasons? How had he come to the U.S.? She felt the overwhelming urge to grab the first volume of Carlisle's diary and begin reading, gulping paragraphs like cold water in July, searching each word for clues, for information. How had the Cullens become the family they were today? What secrets were they still hiding?

Bella forced herself to calm, and she put the book back on the shelf with its brothers. No, not just yet. She would finish cleaning the library first - find fuel for the lamps, and wood for the fireplace. She would make this room livable, and then she would begin her journey into the past. She would continue cleaning, spending her mornings working on the house and her afternoons in here, when the light would be strongest through these windows. Afternoons could stretch into evenings, evenings into full night...she would have to scrounge up a blanket to bring in here, and maybe some of the pillows off her bed. She certainly didn't need them all to sleep on. In fact, at the moment, going back to her room to sleep did not sound at all like a pleasant idea. It was ridiculous, she knew, but she was still afraid.

Lightning. Woodsmoke. Bella breathed the familiar scent deeply into her lungs before lifting her head. Edward stood in the doorway.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Lightning. Woodsmoke. Bella breathed the familiar scent deeply into her lungs before lifting her head. Edward stood in the doorway.

Bella could do nothing but stare. Pain was etched along the contours of his lovely face. It glimmered in the depths of his amber eyes and hung heavy on his shoulders, but even under stress he was still so beautiful it took her breath away. Each sharp, perfect angle of him seemed to glow in the wash of pale afternoon light and the red of his lips and gold of his eyes stood out starkly against the pallor of his skin. Her heart beat wildly against her ribcage, and she didn't know whether it was desire or fear she felt more.

He took a slow step forward and Bella skittered back, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. She grabbed a book from the floor and clasped it close to her chest, wanting something to grab hold of. Her eyes were big and dark, wide and frightened, and she huddled, so small and defensive, in the dusty corner of the silent library.

The pain etched starkly on Edward's face deepened and he stopped moving, standing utterly still. Stiller than a human ever could, and it only reinforced to Bella how different the two of them truly were. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

"You were supposed to tell me if I hurt you," Edward said finally, his voice flat and lifeless. "I didn't know why you left, whether you wanted me to follow you. Please, how bad is it? Do you need to see a doctor?"

Bella swallowed again. She desperately wanted to erase the hurt in his eyes, but she didn't know how to fix this. Things between them were spiraling out of control, and while giving into her body's desire last night had felt wonderful, it had only made things worse. She loved him - god, how she loved him! But that didn't solve anything. She gripped the edges of the book so hard that her hands shook and her knuckles turned white. "You didn't hurt me," she finally worked up the nerve to whisper.

"I don't believe you," Edward said flatly. "I can see in your eyes that you're hurting." He ached to close the distance between them, take her in his arms and soothe the conflict and fear warring for dominance on her beautiful face, but he was too afraid. Afraid that she would deny him, that she would try to run again - or worse, cry. He'd seen very few tears drop from those big brown eyes, and he loathed the thought that he might cause some.

"Not physically," Bella whispered. No, physically he had not hurt her. Physically, last night had been utter bliss. But there were many other ways to hurt besides bruises and scrapes and there was no first-aid kit for emotional pain. "You didn't hurt me. I did."

Edward took another hesitant step forward before forcing himself to stop. "Did you fall again?" he asked, concern replacing the aching pain in his eyes and voice.

"No!" Bella buried her head behind the book and shut her eyes tightly. She knocked her forehead against the hard cover in frustration. It was clear she had hurt not only herself but both of them with her reckless actions last night. She had felt afraid and so very, very alone. Edward was gentle, and while his body was cold, his presence created warmth inside her when she had desperately needed it. But his presence did not soothe the confused, angry ache inside her, the one that insisted Edward's actions were unjustified and wrong even as he insisted he had had no choice but to kidnap her.

Cool hands were suddenly on her shoulders, though she had not heard him move. Choking back a strangled sob, she buried her head further under the book, against her knees. His touch was her undoing; she couldn't resist it. She wasn't strong enough to stay away from him when she felt his cold skin against her. It felt so good, and she was so lonely.

But it solved nothing.

She shuddered as he plucked the book from her grasp as easily as if she had offered it to him willingly. With nothing to hold onto now, she wrapped her arms around her legs and hid her face in the dark hollow. She wouldn't cry - not here, not in front of him - but she couldn't face him either.

"Bella," he whispered, sharp and broken.

She shook her head the smallest bit, not wanting to stir the air and allow his scent to wash over her any more than it already was.

"Bella,  _please_. I've tried giving you space. For weeks now I've let you be, and it isn't fixing anything. Please talk to me."

She shook her head again. How could she possibly talk to him when she couldn't explain to herself what she was thinking or feeling? She usually forgave people so easily - what was it about this particular offense that made it impossible to do so. It would be so much easier to take a deep breath, forgive him, and move forward. But she couldn't. She wasn't capable of it.

She didn't think she was capable of forgiving herself, either.

She'd hurt them both badly by giving in to her desires last night, and she hated herself for it. Hated her weakness, her fear. Hated the fact that she just didn't have the words to explain this to Edward, to tell him it was a mistake to coerce him as she had. Her body had felt so good, but inside she'd been crying, knowing it was wrong but unable to stop herself all the same.

"Bella, nothing will get better if you keep ignoring me."

She sniffed, fighting back tears.

Edward didn't know what else to do. She was curled in a little ball, looking so desperately small and afraid. She refused to look at him, and from the taut lines of muscle under her skin he knew she was stoically forcing back tears. This habit she had of refusing to cry was unhealthy, he was sure. Why she did it he didn't know, but it was really starting to worry him.

He knew where she had been all day, but he hadn't had the nerve to bother her until now. He'd watched as she sat outside in the wet, chilly morning, staring out at the rolling park without really seeing it. He hid in the shadows and watched her try to work, then give up. Emotion burned in her eyes and across her delicate face, none of it pleasant. Something had shifted, changed - her silent mind drove him mad in that moment. He felt sure a stray thought had caused the panic that made her flee her work and stumble deeper into parts of the manor she had not yet explored.

Then she'd fallen down the stairs and found the library.

Edward left her alone for a while then, knowing she would stay close to her beloved books and nothing worse than a papercut was likely to befall her. He'd climbed to the topmost tier of roof and stared out at the countryside and the tiny buildings of the nearby town. Clearly Bella needed something - something he could not give her. It was an unwelcome realization, but one he was slowly beginning to accept. Last night he had thought they'd had a breakthrough when she finally turned to him for comfort. Whatever had frightened her - be it a mouse or a memory - he was stronger, he'd felt. He was able to keep her safe.

Sitting up on the roof, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Back in Forks, Bella hadn't seemed so...damaged. She'd been shy, yes, and wanted to stay close to him. But she laughed with Emmett and cuddled with Esme, and she'd trusted them enough to tell them her story.  _All_  of it, eventually, even leaving her...son...with Rosalie.

But here, Bella was almost an entirely different person. She was the frightened little lamb from Rosalie's thoughts, mixed with so much anger that it was eating her up inside. Edward knew he was the cause of that anger, and he wished he knew how to dissipate it. But what could he do? What's done was done, and he wouldn't take it back even if he could, he told himself. He'd removed her from Forks for her protection. He'd done what was best for her.

Before giving her the pill that would knock her out for hours, Edward had considered the consequences of his actions. He'd accepted the fact that she might not be able to forgive him for his deception. But he hadn't known it would feel like this, like the world had gone dark and a hole had been ripped through his chest, to have Bella ignore him. He also hadn't realized what the confusion and anger would do to her. It was tearing her apart, and Edward couldn't take it anymore. Something had to change. Something had to give.

Which was why he finally worked up the courage to confront her. He had no idea what she might say or do when she saw him again, but for her sake he decided he had to do it.

The moment she looked up at him with such fear and agony in her eyes was possibly the worst of his life. He didn't know if he could survive seeing that expression on her face again.

Which was why he was now a little glad she kept her head down, tucked in her curled self. That one look in those big brown eyes could do what no raging river or wild animal could ever do - kill him. Rip him into so many pieces he didn't know if he'd ever be able to repair the damage.

Her breath caught, and Edward could only stare as she slowly shook her head again. She swallowed audibly, forcing back tears.

"It's true," Edward insisted, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her more. "Bella, if you keep bottling everything up inside...it's not good. It will hurt more. Please talk to me."

Another small shake of her head.

"What will it take for you to talk to me?" he asked, trying not to demand. "I told you that you could ask me for anything you want. I only want you to be safe and happy. Here, away from your father, you are safe.  _Safe_ , Bella. He can't touch you, and nobody knows where we are. This entire library is at your disposal. I'll call in a cleaning and restoration crew if you want - you don't have to keep working your fingers to the bone. You can have whatever you want, sweet girl, just please, please talk to me!"

She choked back another sob and shook her head again. Soft, softer than the whisper of a page turning, she said, "You lied, Edward."

"I have never lied to you, Bella." His brow furrowed in confusion. What was she thinking? He'd been willing to tell her the truth about himself and his family, willing to tell her anything she wanted to know. But she had told them not to divulge their secret. What else could she possibly mean?

"Right now," she whispered. "You just did."

"How?"

She swallowed again and slowly turned her head, raising it just a little. One wet, red-rimmed eye found him. She looked so hurt, so lost. "You said I could have anything I want."

"You can, Bella. Anything. I wasn't lying."

She shook her head again. "Yes, you were. I want Esme."

Edward felt his heart sink as she turned back into herself, hiding her face from him again. She had to ask for the one thing he couldn't give her - the one thing she'd been begging for in her sleep for weeks now. Her mother. Not Renee, but Esme.

And Edward just couldn't do it.

He couldn't risk his family finding out where he'd taken Bella. He couldn't risk  _anyone_  knowing. What Esme knew, Carlisle knew. And Carlisle would insist they return to Forks immediately and continue playing games with the state. Edward couldn't risk that. He  _wouldn't_  risk it. Bella was staying here with him, where she was safe. To keep her safe, he had to separate her from the rest of the family. She would turn eighteen in less than a year, and maybe then, if she still wanted them, they could reunite. But not now. Not when her father was still walking free and she was still underage.

Bella shrugged off the hand on her shoulder and shifted away from him, and she broke. She huddled in the corner, still refusing to raise her head, and cried. He smelled the salt of tears that she could no longer hold back, and he knew if he stayed to listen it would break him, too. He ran.

Edward didn't know what to do, and he didn't like it. He loathed it, in fact. He hadn't felt this helpless in decades. Did he compromise Bella's safety for her happiness? Did he keep her here and hope she got over it?

Pacing the graveled walkway, Edward growled. Why couldn't he make a simple decision? One or the other, fifty-fifty?

Because the decision was anything but simple, and he knew that. But his analytical mind was good at weighing costs and benefits and making informed decisions. Why was it so hard this time?

With a sinking feeling, Edward realized why. Not only was the girl currently crying her eyes out in the manor library a huge factor, but he'd rarely had to make decisions on his own since rejoining Carlisle and the rest of the family. They functioned best as a family, as a cohesive unit. While they were all separate entities with their own free will, they were also parts of a whole. That whole was greater than the sum of its parts. He always had someone to turn to when he needed help, be it Carlisle or Jasper, gentle Esme or far-seeing Alice. Each member of his family had a role to play, a niche that was his or her very own. Dealing with human emotions was not Edward's forte at all. In other circumstances he'd be demanding assistance from a family member to puzzle out the best thing to do.

With an aggrieved sigh and a tug on his hair, Edward pulled out his phone.

* * *

Rosalie stretched idly, waiting for Emmett to return from hunting. They'd been going separately since Mason arrived on their doorstep, taking turns watching him. Other members of the family would have been happy to help if they wanted to hunt together, but Rose took her parenting duties very seriously. The others were free to hold the baby and play with him, but they were not responsible for him. She and Emmett fed and bathed him, put him to bed, diapered him, and did his laundry.

There was a  _lot_  of laundry. Rosalie had no idea how much a baby could go through. They were using disposable diapers, but there were still burp rags and mats for the changing table, and his bedding and blankets, and all the clothes he went through. She didn't think it was possible for any baby to use all the clothes Alice bought him, but for once the little pixie's proclivity for over-shopping had been justified. Sometimes he needed to be changed three or more times a day, depending on how many times he spat up, or got into something he shouldn't, or made a huge mess while feeding. It was all fun and new and Rose didn't mind - there was nothing cuter than miniature clothes, after all - but she had not been entirely prepared. When he started really crawling, she knew, things would only get more hectic. Emmett couldn't wait, but Rose thought she could be perfectly content to carry him around for, oh, the next fifty years or so.

If only, she thought, smiling at him now. They were both sprawled on their bellies in the living room, Mason entranced by the dangling toys on his activity arch. He chortled and babbled to himself, and Rose watched with a smile on her face. He wasn't very interested in this arch if you lay him on his back, but it was like an entirely different toy when he looked at it on his belly. He pushed himself up on his hands, his blue eyes wide and fascinated as he tried to touch the dangling toys and keep himself up at the same time. He'd been doing the same thing for over an hour now and didn't seem tired of it yet. Rose was content to let him do as he pleased and just watch him. She'd already taken plenty of still photos and video of him today, and now she just watched and laughed along when he made a particularly funny face as he struggled to reach the toys.

Her phone buzzed, and she sighed before going in search of it. Probably Emmett was calling to say he'd been detained and would be home late. It wasn't unusual for him to get sidetracked by the smell of bear, and this late in the season they were all going into hibernation. He just couldn't resist a full, fat, sleepy bear.

Rummaging at vampire speed through her purse, Rose found the phone and glanced at the screen. With a little shriek, she accepted the call. "Edward!" she hollered, her voice sharp. Mason looked up with wide eyes, his little mouth formed into a surprised O. He'd never heard his mother sound so firm.

Immediately Esme, Alice, and Jasper were in the room with her. Carlisle was with Emmett, but Rose had no doubt he'd hear all about this call when he returned.

"Edward, you worthless sack of - " Rose cut herself off before she swore in front of the baby. He probably couldn't understand anyway, but it was better to get into the habit early. "Where are you?" she demanded. "Where's Bella? Is she all right?"

Esme's golden eyes were full of aching concern, and Rose knew how hard she was taking the disappearance of Edward and Bella. They had to convince him to come home, or let them come to him. For Esme's sake, and for Bella's. The family had to see that she was okay.

There was a strange noise on the other end of the line; Rose didn't know if it was a mocking little bark of a laugh or some kind of twisted sob. "I slept with her, Rose."

"Lovely for you. Your sex life is not what I want to hear about. How is she?"

"Not good."

"You no good..." Rose paused, then opened the front door and stomped outside where she could yell at him properly. She never left Mason alone without expressly clearing it with the watching family member, but this was important. She trusted one of the three to look after him while she tore her brother a new one. "Details," she demanded. " _Now_. I'm not kidding, Edward, I will fuck you up so badly when you get home if you've hurt her."

"I don't know if I did or not," he snapped, frustration rife in his voice. The connection was crackly, and Rose knew they had perfect reception at their house. He must be very far away. "She won't talk to me."

"Before or after you decided to think with your dick instead of your brain?"

"It wasn't like that!" he protested. "She was scared of something, and she wouldn't let go of me. It was the first time in weeks she'd even acknowledged my presence, Rose."

His voice was frantic, desperate. Rose didn't know if she'd ever heard him sound quite like that before.

"First things first, Edward. Where are you?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no? We're not the bad guys here, you idiot! We're your family. Where have you taken her?"

"If I tell you, you'll just tell Carlisle and he'll make her return. I'm through playing games with the state, and I'm not letting Bella get anywhere near her father. No, Rose. I won't tell you where we are."

Rosalie bit back a frustrated growl and turned to face the house. Alice and Esme were watching, and she knew they could hear both sides of the conversation perfectly. Jasper must be with the baby. "Can you see anything?" she mouthed at Alice, but the smallest Cullen just shook her head in frustration.

"Look," Rose said, "Esme's right here. I'm sure she wants to talk to you."

"No," Edward said again, sounding sullen. "Just you. If you put anyone else on, I'll hang up."

"Edward, you're being ridiculous!"

"Don't care."

Rose looked at her adoptive mother again, and Esme made an encouraging gesture. Maybe if they kept Edward on the line long enough, they'd be able to figure out where he was hiding Bella. Resigned, Rose put the phone back to her ear. "Fine," she forced herself to say, though all she wanted to do was demand that he bring Bella back. "What did you call for?"

"I need help."

Then tell us where you are, Rose wanted to say. Instead, she said, "With what?"

"Bella's not...good," he said hesitantly.

"Edward, I swear to god, if you hurt her..."

"I didn't!" His voice dropped. "Physically, at least."

"What does that mean?"

"She's so mad at me, Rose. She won't talk to me, and I'm afraid bottling up her emotions is tearing her apart. What can I do to make her talk?"

"Why is she upset?"

Edward sighed; Rose could almost hear him tug his hand through his hair, like he always did when he was frustrated. "I drugged her after I took her from her father's house, and I brought her here without telling her. I knew she'd probably be upset, but I didn't know how bad it would be. It's bad. She won't eat the food I cook for her, won't talk to me or read notes I leave her. I told her she could have anything she wants, anything to make her happy here, but she won't ask for anything. I thought giving her some time would help, but nothing changed."

"You," Rosalie informed her brother, feeling anger swirling up through her system, "are a first-class idiot. A twit. A...a...I don't even know!" She threw up her hands as she paced back and forth across the driveway. "Of  _course_  she's mad at you. If it were me, I would have pulled you to pieces by now!"

"How is this any different than the plan we hatched together?" he demanded, affront coloring his words. "The only difference is the location!"

"I didn't think you were going to drug her and whisk her away without her knowledge or permission!" Rose defended. "You said you'd give her something to help her sleep. I thought that was because of the long car ride, you imbecile, not so you could fucking kidnap her!"

There was a pause on Edward's side, and Rose took advantage of it to press forward. "And who the hell died and made you king, that Bella has to ask for every little thing she wants? Is she a pet, Edward? Is that all she is to you?"

"No," he protested, "I would never - "

"Well, that's sure what it sounds like, if you decide where she lives and what she eats, and how much time is enough for her to get over her anger."

"What do I do, Rose?" he asked brokenly. "How do I fix it?"

"Tell us where you are."

"No."

Rose shrugged. It had been worth a try. He sounded so lost and afraid, and she couldn't blame him. She couldn't even contemplate losing Emmett, and the fact that Bella seemed to want nothing to do with Edward had to be ripping him apart. Still, she couldn't feel too sorry for him. He'd caused this mess, and now he had to deal with it. What wasn't fair was that Bella had to, too. "Listen," she said, "and listen good, because I'm only going to say it once."

Edward did not respond to that. Good boy, Rose thought.

"If you won't tell us where you are so we can visit and help fix this, there's only so much I can do. Right now - right this minute - you stop harassing her. Got it? Leave her the hell alone. Stop fixing her food she doesn't want to accept, stop leaving notes, stop lurking in the shadows and watching her like some crazed stalker. If you're near civilization, leave her money to find and let her buy what she needs. If you're not, adjust what I'm saying but only as much as necessary. Let her interact with the locals and make acquaintances. Don't let her get hurt, but don't hover. Let her work this out in her own mind, in her own time. If you won't let her come home and won't let us see her, at least let her do as she pleases. Don't force anything. And if you're very, very lucky - more lucky than you deserve - she might come to you."

"I can't leave her alone when she's hurting!" he protested.

"You can, and you will. Let me ask you - is anything you're doing to interfere helping her at all?"

Edward's stony silence spoke for him.

"I thought not. Just leave her alone, Edward. I know it hurts to hear it, but she needs some time alone to process what's been done to her. Do you have any idea what you've done to that poor girl by kidnapping her?"

"You mean besides keeping her safe?" Edward said sulkily.

Rose rolled her eyes. She had little patience for temper tantrums. Mason would learn that quickly when he grew old enough to throw them. "You didn't hit her, but you acted just like that father of hers."

"Damn it, Rose, don't say shit like that to me!" Edward roared. He sounded absolutely furious. Rose hoped Bella was nowhere nearby; Edward in a temper was not something that girl needed to deal with.

"I mean it, Edward, and I won't take it back. You and her father are both possessive pricks. I know you'd never hurt her on purpose, which is all he ever seems to do. But you're treating her the same way he does - not letting her make decisions for herself, not trusting her."

"I do trust her!"

"You do not. If you did, you'd bring her home to us. You'd trust her to make the right decisions for herself instead of doing it for her."

"It's not that easy, Rose. She's brainwashed by him."

"And how is you kidnapping her fixing that? Hm? It's not. Listen to me: I know she means the world to you. I understand that. But trust works both ways. She's hurting and terrified right now. I know her enough to know that. And she's not scared of you as a vampire, but as a man. A man she loves, but a man very much like her father in some uncomfortable ways. She has to figure that out and come to terms with it within herself before she can truly be your mate, Edward. Your partner."

Edward growled. "She's mine," he said, low and dangerous.

"I'm not the one you have to convince."

There was a long silence before Edward said quietly, "Anything else?"

"Yes. One more thing. No matter what else you do, Edward, don't you dare apologize to her."

"What?"

"I mean it. Unless you can honestly, truly say you're sorry for what you did, don't apologize. It means less than nothing if you aren't truthful. A real apology means you understand that what you did was wrong, and given the opportunity, you wouldn't do it again. Unless and until you can say that with honesty, don't apologize. She doesn't want to hear that you're sorry she's upset. She needs to hear that you regret what you did and won't ever do it again. Until you can say that, leave her alone."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my UK Consultant, Hev99, for her help with this chapter!
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

Edward continued to pace long after Rosalie had hung up on him. Her advice had only heightened his agitation and misery. Leave Bella alone? When she was hurting? He honestly didn't think he could do it, no matter what Rosalie thought. Just these last few weeks had been hard enough, and Rose expected him to cut off even more contact. No watching her sleep, no offerings of food or anything else. What was he supposed to do if he found her curled up in a little ball in the hallway again, shaking and afraid? Pretend he didn't see her? Just walk on by? Edward was capable of many things, but he wasn't at all sure he was able to do that.

Before he knew what he was doing, Edward's hand had reached for his phone again and he speed-dialed Emmett's number.

"Dude, you scared my dinner away!"

Edward grimaced. "Why didn't you silence your phone or turn it off if you're hunting?"

"Carlisle said not to, in case you called."

"Well, so now I've called," Edward said flatly. Of course Carlisle would say something like that.

"I can see that. What did you want?"

Edward hesitated. Was he really going to do this? "Advice," he said finally. Yes, the world had officially turned on its head. Pigs flew, and hell froze over - he was asking Emmett for relationship advice.

"Come again?" Emmett's good-natured voice sounded astonished. "From me? About what?"

"Bella."

"Where are you two, anyway? The reception's shitty."

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. "I just went through all that with your wife," he said, leaning against the trunk of an elm tree. "I really don't want to repeat myself when she's going to tell you all about it anyway. Unless she already did. Is she with you?"

"Nah, she's home with the baby. It's just Carlisle and me."

Edward grimaced again at his father's name. He had a great deal of respect for the older vampire, and didn't particularly want to talk to him. He didn't want to hear the disappointment he felt sure would color Carlisle's tone and his words. Edward wasn't an idiot. He knew his family disapproved of his choice to take Bella away just as much as Bella herself did. He'd steeled himself for their disapprobation, telling himself that as long as he had Bella, he didn't need anything or anyone else. But that surety was fast disappearing in the face of Bella's continued pain and Rose's fury. What if he did need them, after all? For the first time, he was truly afraid that he couldn't handle this on his own.

"Emmett, look. I can't tell you where we are because I don't want anyone to find us."

"Dude," came the puzzled voice over the phone, "if you wanted a honeymoon you really should have married her first. Or did you elope? Alice is going to be furious if you did, you know. She was already planning a big wedding."

"No, Emmett. Listen carefully please. Bella's furious that I took her away from Forks, and she won't talk to me. She just keeps crying and asking for Esme."

"So bring her back."

"No, Emmett." Edward rocked his head back, thumping it against the tree. He loved the gentle giant, he really did, but Emmett so often saw things in black and white only. He thought there was a clear-cut answer to every problem, where Edward knew there were never any easy answers. He'd hoped Emmett's propensity for seeing the simplicity of a situation would help him find a solution to his complicated dilemma with Bella, but now he wasn't so sure. "I can't. I won't. If I brought her back the state would return her to her father, and I won't allow it. She's better off here with me."

"Even mad at you and crying for Esme?"

"Yes," Edward said through tightly clenched teeth.

"So the emotional hurt is better than physical?"

Edward opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say. How was he to know which was better, really? But didn't living with Charlie cause Bella both physical and emotional pain? He'd far rather she felt no pain at all, but if he had to choose, he'd choose the lesser of two difficult situations. To him, keeping her physically safe at Ellison House was better than gambling that safety back in Forks.

"Look, Ed, what is it you really want to ask me?"

Edward took a deep breath. "What do you do when Rose is not...good? I mean, when things get bad emotionally? I know she has flashbacks of her human life, and I know she gets...down...for weeks, sometimes, remembering what she can't have anymore. The lack of possibilities. What do you do when that happens?"

"It's hard, man." Edward heard the crackly sound of Emmett scratching his chin. "Is that what's going on? Is Bella all depressed and shit?"

"Clinically? I don't know; I'm not in a position to make that call. It's bad, though, Em." He paused. "I slept with her."

Emmett let out a long breath before he said anything. "I'd say congrats and all that, but dude, Bella's already pretty fucked over. You sure that was the best idea?"

"No," Edward admitted, tugging his free hand impatiently through his hair. At least Emmett wasn't chewing his head off as Rose had. "In fact, I'm pretty sure it  _wasn't_  a good idea, now that I can think straight. But she was afraid of something and she wouldn't let go of me. It was the first time she'd acknowledged my presence in weeks, and she was so soft and warm..." Edward forced himself to stop abruptly as his internal filter kicked in. There were some things Emmett really didn't need to know, no matter how non-judgmental he was being. Everything Edward said now would be stored in his brother's perfect vampire memory, just waiting to be unleashed jokingly in an embarrassing situation sometime in the future.

"Ed, not that I think you're a douche or anything, but I got to ask. You didn't force her or anything, did you? Because as her big brother, I'd kind of be forced to beat your ass if you did."

"Well, I didn't. I'm afraid she regrets it all the same, though." The accusation somehow didn't sound as awful coming from Emmett as it would from Rose. She hadn't actually asked him if he forced or coerced Bella into his bed, but her attitude all but assumed that he had.

"Ladies are strange creatures," Emmett said, and Edward had to laugh at his attempt to sound like a sage, though the laughter was weak.

"What do I do, Em? All she does is ignore me, and cry, and compulsively clean."

"Herself?"

"No, the house." Edward spoke cautiously, not wanting to give away too much information. He didn't think Emmett would pick up on any subtle clues about their location, but if Carlisle were within earshot  _he_  most certainly would. "I mean, she showers every day, but I wouldn't call it compulsive."

"You watching her shower, then?" Emmett asked, a touch of sly humor in his voice.

"No!" Edward protested, shoving back the sudden thought of himself in the shower with Bella, surrounded by steam... No, he told himself firmly. Not right now. Maybe not ever, if things continued on their current path. "I do watch her sleep, though," he admitted, gentling his voice as he recalled the beautiful sight of her pink cheeks as she slept - the warmth of her, the looseness of her body and the soft smile that touched the corners of her full mouth when her dreams were pleasant. "But Rose told me I should stop. She wants me to leave Bella alone, wait for her to come to me - which she might never do." He swallowed hard, dreading the possible answer to the next question. "Do you think that's what I should do?"

"Hard to say, man. Your girl is nothing like mine."

His girl. Edward didn't even know if he could say that anymore. She'd been his for such a terrifyingly brief time. What if he'd lost her already?

"Have you tried talking to her?"

"Both in person and in notes. She won't respond to letters, and all she did when I confronted her was cry and beg for Esme."

"Did you try buying her something? That usually works with Alice."

"Bella is nothing like Alice. She doesn't care about  _things_." Edward hadn't consciously realized this until he said it out loud, and he turned the fact over in his head, wondering if the little revelation could be at all useful. "I tried roses a couple of times. I told her she could ask me for anything, but she won't."

"Girls don't like to ask," Emmett said sagely. "They like you to be able to read their minds."

"I can't," Edward grit out through clenched teeth.

"Figuratively, man. I didn't mean for real. I mean, with Rose it's kind of a crapshoot. Sometimes when she's upset she wants to be pampered. Other times she wants to be left the hell alone. It took a long time - decades - to figure out which response she wanted in a given situation."

Edward groaned and knocked his head back against the tree again. It creaked alarmingly. "I don't  _have_  decades here, Emmett!"

"Well, is there anything you could do to speed up the process?"

"Like what?"

"Hell if I know, man. She's  _your_  girl. Did you ever think about, oh, I don't know...asking her?"

"I thought you said women liked you to guess."

"Well, you're not doing very well at that right now, are you?" Emmett chuckled, but then grew serious again. "Look, bro, that's my baby sister there. I know Rosie is furious you took her, and you should know it's absolutely crushed Esme. She's worried about both of you and she wants her family back together."

"I know," Edward said quietly. "I don't know if that will ever happen, though, Em. You've got the baby, and I don't know if Bella will ever be ready to live with him, even with you and Rose as his parents."

"I adore my little dude, but I think Bella's stronger than you give her credit for here. She brought him to us, didn't she? She was around him then."

"She was," Edward agreed. "But...I just don't know. Has anything changed with CPS?"

"A lot," Emmett said, excitement lacing his tone. "Mason's social worker came to the house twice now. On her own - she didn't even know Carlisle and Esme have been calling for weeks, trying to get hold of someone. She wanted to know about Bella and Chief Swan."

Edward's head jerked up, and he could almost hear an anxious pounding from his dead heart. "What happened? Is Charlie in jail? What - "

"Chill, dude. She saw the video Carlisle made of Bella, and she has copies of the photos he took. He turned over the evidence from the garage to her, and she seems to be on Bella's side. I guess Charlie called her a while back, trying to annul our adoption of Mason so he could get custody."

Edward seethed, and he grabbed a wooden fence railing and snapped it in his hands so he wouldn't crush the phone. "That bastard doesn't want the baby. He just wants to use him to hurt Bella."

"No kidding. I can't imagine him with a baby; it's a wonder Bella survived this long, with the parents she had."

"She's a survivor," Edward said, a fierce, desperate kind of pride welling up in his heart for his beautiful, battered girl.

There was a sudden, swift crackling sound on the other end of the line, and then Carlisle's smooth voice sounded. "Yes," he agreed, "she is. Give her that credit, Edward. She's survived this long. Trust her to keep going."

Edward froze. Talking over the phone was difficult for him; he couldn't read thoughts from this far away, even with the electronic link. He hadn't expected to hear his father's voice and now that he had, he didn't know what to say. "Carlisle," he whispered. "Carlisle, I'm sorry."

"For what, exactly?"

"For hurting the family. But I couldn't stand by any longer. I couldn't."

"Will you bring her home, son? The social worker has promised that she won't be sent back to Charlie. She's said Bella can stay with us until this whole mess is sorted out. Bring her home, Edward. Let her have Esme, if she's crying for her."

Edward closed his eyes, pain burning behind them from the tears he would never shed. He hated disappointing his father more than just about anything. But he couldn't do it. He wouldn't. "I can't, Carlisle," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, but I just can't."

There was a gentle sigh on the other end. "I disagree with your methods, Edward, but your heart was in the right place. I only hope Bella can someday see that."

"I do, too."

"You've said that she's not doing well. How are you holding up, son? There are two of you in this mess together, after all."

Edward shrugged off his father's concern. "I hunt. I watch over her. It kills me to see her so unhappy, but I can't take her back, so what else is there to do?"

"I think you might take your brother's and sister's suggestions under consideration," Carlisle said gently. "Rosalie means well, I'm sure, no matter how...untactful...her delivery methods might be."

"She's ready to tear me to pieces," Edward admitted. "And I'm not sure she'd put them together again afterward."

"Well, that's Rose. She doesn't forgive easily. Bella seems to be made of more malleable material, but, Edward, no matter your intentions, what you did was a huge breach of trust. Regardless of which route you take, please consider this: what are you going to do to repair the trust which has been broken?"

"I don't know, Carlisle," Edward said quietly. "What can I do when she won't talk to me?"

"Unfortunately, that's for you to figure out. No two situations - no two people - are alike. It took me a long time to forgive myself for leaving Esme when she was young, though there was no way I could have known the pain that lay in her future. She insisted there was nothing to forgive, and until we came to an agreement about that, there was a certain amount of tension in our relationship. Rosalie, no matter how much I love her,  _creates_  so much tension wherever she goes that I was afraid she might never find a mate who would mesh well with her. Emmett's easygoing nature - and don't smirk like that, Emmett, Rosalie is perfectly aware of all of this, and there's no reason to deny it - is the perfect foil for her. Anyone less understanding, less playful, would not have worked."

"And Alice and Jasper?"

"Jasper desperately needs Alice's joy and exuberance to keep him balanced. After all the pain and destruction he's seen and experienced, she is what keeps him alive and functioning. I am beyond proud of him for how far he has come in the decades he's been part of this family, but he owes a great deal of his will to Alice. Without her, I have no doubt he would have become a dangerous renegade indeed. Perhaps dangerous enough to incur the censure of the Volturi, and you know as well as I that they do not give second chances."

"And what about Bella and me?" Edward whispered, hardly daring to ask the question.

"Son, I know what you're really asking," Carlisle said, his voice achingly gentle. "To reassure you, I have no doubt that Bella is your true mate. You've waited for her for so long, and I know it's been difficult. Now that you've found her, fixing this complicated situation may feel even more difficult."

"I need her, Carlisle."

"I know it. Every true mated pair knows it. I don't know Bella well enough to tell you which part of you she needs the most right now, and I'm sorry for that, son, I truly am. There's no manual for love, unfortunately. But that's what makes it all the more precious - the certainty mixed with uncertainty, the knowing and not-knowing. That's why love is called a leap of faith. What doesn't bend, breaks. That's the only advice I can give you. Learn to bend. Bella has. All her life she's been bent like a sapling in a hurricane, taking the blows and hiding the hurt as best she can. When you learn to look the right way, you might just find that she's bending toward you, not away. The question is whether or not you're willing to meet her in the middle."

Edward closed his phone quietly, a pensive look on his face as he turned to gaze at the manor. He knew Carlisle well enough to understand that he would get no more assistance from this conversation. But his questions still weren't answered. Whose advice should he follow? Rose's? Emmett's? Did he quash his heart and leave Bella alone? Or did he continue to watch her, trying to puzzle out what she truly wanted from him, as Emmett had hinted? And what had Carlisle meant about bending, anyway? He'd left his family for her. He would walk the world over to get her whatever she wanted, if she'd only say the word. And still Carlisle said he wasn't bending?

* * *

Bella spent the rest of the day in the library, curled into the corner. She tried to read but half the time she found herself turning a page, realizing she had no idea what the past few paragraphs had said. Other times she read the same sentence over and over again, unable to comprehend what it was saying. The pain in her gut churned unhappily, twisting tighter and tighter as she listened to the silent house. Her tears had dried, leaving tight, salty tracks down her cheeks, but she didn't bother to find a water source to clean them. She didn't care.

All she cared about was the pain - hers, and the pain she'd caused to the one person still around, the one person who hadn't abandoned her. Although, she hadn't seen him for hours now. It was possible he  _had_  abandoned her by now, and she wouldn't blame him at all. In her opinion, she hadn't treated him well at all. She'd taken advantage of him, and had not been capable of expressing how she felt. She didn't know why, but the words just wouldn't come.

She was still so afraid, too. Afraid of being alone, afraid of this new country and the big, silent manor - the age of it, the stillness. In the daylight she was not afraid of the prospect of ghosts, though she did not know how she would feel once night set in again. These new stresses added to the fears she was more or less used to - fear of her father, and his wrath. She didn't fear for Mason anymore, not now that he was with the Cullens. But she held little hope that the rest of the Cullen family wanted her anymore. Now that the realization had occurred to her, it seemed so much more likely that they would be glad to be rid of her. What was she to them, anyway? They had given her shelter and a safe haven when she so desperately needed it. They had been kind and welcoming. In return, she'd given them the baby she did not want and was not able to properly care for. There was no way to judge the evenness of a trade like that, but she hoped they were happy with the gift of the child none of them could physically conceive or give birth to.

But the growing belief that the Cullens did not want her hadn't stopped her from asking for Esme when Edward gave her the opportunity earlier. She hadn't meant to do it, but it had slipped out. He'd proven that he lied to her, then, because he had not said okay. It was clear enough to her that when he said she could have anything she wanted, he didn't mean it. There were limits. She could ask for jewelry or plasma televisions and she was quite sure he'd give them to her with a smile. But she wasn't allowed to leave this place, wasn't allowed to go back to Forks. And whether it was Edward's doing, the rest of the Cullens', or both, they weren't coming to see her, either.

Why had he done it? Bella asked herself that for the ten millionth time as she slowly pulled herself up, her joints aching from sitting so long in the same position. She still didn't really understand. He claimed to love her, and to have taken her away from Forks for her own good. But he was leaving his family, too. Regardless of how they'd come to be a functioning unit, they clearly loved and respected each other. Even the little time Bella had been with them told her that much. He'd chosen to leave them to come to Britain with her - out of love, he claimed. But he hadn't given her any choice in the matter, hadn't even told her what he was planning. He'd drugged her to keep her asleep so she couldn't argue until it was far, far too late. His actions made her suspect he knew she would not be happy. So if he really loved her, as he claimed, why had he done it?

Bella was all too familiar with unwanted actions done out of supposed love. How many times had Charlie told her he was punishing her for her own good, when she was younger? How often had she heard - at six, seven, eight years old - that he only did what he did out of love? Too many times to count. It had taken years of reflection and reading self-help books in the Phoenix library to untangle the knot of confusion in her heart and brain and come to understand that Charlie did nothing but lie. He didn't hurt her for her own good. He hurt her for one reason, and one reason only: to cause pain. He did it because he wanted to, and it had nothing to do with her well-being.

Now Edward was telling her the same thing, and she didn't know what to think. She wanted to trust him - god, she wanted to trust him. Bella wanted to regain that feeling she'd had when he pulled her into her arms during her panic attacks, holding her tightly and promising nothing would ever hurt her again. The feeling had been comforting and electrifying and utterly new to her -  _safety_. To her, safety wasn't a big, silent old manor house on a foreign island thousands of miles from her father. Safety was a select few pairs of cold arms, of gentle golden eyes and honey-sweet voices. Esme. Rosalie. And Edward? Before he'd stolen her away, she would have said absolutely. Him above all others. But now she wasn't so sure. He said he loved her. So had her father. He saw her cry, and told her his actions had been for her own good. So had her father. She didn't want to think Edward was cruel - his eyes were so full of pain when he looked at her, and he was always so, so gentle. But she didn't know what to think, really. Her heart and brain were pulling in two different directions, and she didn't know which to trust. She doubted there were psychological self-help books for survivors of abuse in this library, no matter how large it was.

Sighing, Bella trudged out of the shadowy library. Night was quickly falling, and there was no electricity there. She hoped to find fuel for the dusty lamps, but there was no telling when or if that was possible. For now, she made her way to the kitchen and stared dully at the leftover bits and pieces in the walk-in refrigerator. She was still too upset to eat, and she finally chose to drink a little milk with an unhappy sigh before trudging back to her room.

For the first time, there was no meal waiting outside her door.

But Bella was too tense to consider what that might mean, and she pushed open the heavy wooden door hesitantly, fear returning to her body as she faced the room that had frightened her so much the night before. Now darkness once again surrounded her, and she reached blindly for the lightswitch.

The electricity was weak, as always; the old wiring flickered and buzzed, and a small table lamp with Tiffany-style glasswork blinked to life in the corner. A pale moon cast shadows through her tall leaded windows. Bella shivered. The light was somewhat better than the dark, but not much. She wished for a stronger light, one that left no shadows. The bathroom was brighter, she remembered, and she hastily opened the big old wardrobe, wanting the security of the brighter bulbs.

Her clothes were back. The nightgowns and robes remained, but her tees and sweatshirts hung neatly on hangers and her jeans and sweats were folded carefully on shelves. In the top drawer, Bella found her panties. All of it smelled freshly laundered, and Bella reached out a shaky hand to grab some clothes before they were taken away again.

It was too cold in the big stone house to wear boxers and a cotton t-shirt to bed, so Bella opted to add sweatpants and socks to her normal sleepwear, and exchanged her usual t-shirt for a sweatshirt. She glanced around the room suspiciously, as if she might find Edward lurking in a corner somewhere, and then darted into the bathroom.

It was brighter in there, thankfully, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She was troubled by her own skittishness, and tried to calm herself as she showered and brushed her teeth. Never before had she been frightened of things that went bump in the night. Charlie was far more frightening than any ghost could possibly be, because he was real. But then again, she'd never had to live virtually alone in a big old manor house before, where it looked like so many people had perhaps lived and died. Shivering into her clean clothes, Bella relished feeling fully dressed once more. Walking around a strange house in a nightgown, with no underwear, had not pleased her. She hugged the heavy sweatshirt to herself, wishing for arms other than her own but not knowing what to do about it. For whatever reason, she could not have Esme. And Edward? She didn't know yet. She just didn't know.

Hours later she woke sweating from an unsettling dream she could not remember. Not quite daring to move, she breathed in experimentally. She didn't smell Edward, so he either hadn't come to her yet...or he wasn't going to. Vague shadows of her dream flitted across her mind just as the room's shadows shifted with the night wind. She shuddered and pulled the blankets close around herself. The hearth was cold and dark, and while she remembered she'd left the light on, it was now dark. If Edward had not been here, the bulb must have burned out or the wiring shorted or...something. Trembling, Bella shifted warily. The wooden bedstead creaked alarmingly, and the hanging tapestries shifted as a draft blew down the chimney. Bella bit back a whimper, watching with macabre fascination as the shadowy figures on the woven cloth almost seemed to move of their own accord, their eerie medieval appearances mockingly sinister. A branch skittered against her window, another gust of air blew down the chimney, and Bella bolted.

She threw open her door, launched herself through it, and ran smack into the solid, unyielding bulk of Edward's chest.

He caught her easily before she fell, and Bella latched onto him, panting, feeling as grateful as she ever had before for his presence. She gripped him tightly, willing him to hold her, betting that not even the ghosts in this house - if ghosts there were - would take on a vampire.

"Bella," he said, and shivers of a completely different kind ran up and down her spine. She shuddered and buried her head against his throat, breathing him deeply into her lungs, into her blood. Her heart stuttered, skipping a beat before resuming its constant thrum against her ribcage. "Bella," he said again, his voice gentle and aching.

"Edward," she replied, not knowing what else to say. His presence didn't erase anything she was dealing with, but it overwhelmed her enough that it pushed everything else aside, shoving her worries out of its path. Her pupils dilated and her breathing shifted, liquid heat starting to flow through her veins and heighten the sensitivity of every nerve ending. This always happened when he was near, when he touched her, and she wasn't able to resist when her emotions were so heightened, her body so hyper-aware of itself due to fear and anxiety. As the night-enduced terror eased, desire began to take its place. It was adrenaline in two forms, primal and raw, twin needs begging to be soothed. Edward's touch diminished the fear, but it only heightened the desire. She pressed herself close to him, unable to let go.

Just as before, Edward swung her up into his arms. It was exactly where she wanted to be in that moment, and she savored each centimeter of pressure between her body and his. A pulsing ache throbbed low in her belly, asking - wanting. Demanding. She held tightly to him and nuzzled the soft hollow behind his earlobe, the skin smooth though his body was firm and unyielding.

"Please," she whispered, not caring about - not thinking about - the consequences.

"Please what?" His voice rumbled from deep within his chest, agonizingly tight and cautious. "I promised you could have anything you want, Bella. But you have to tell me."

"You," she said, touching her mouth to the cold skin of his ear. "Please, Edward, you."

 _Drown out my dreams_ , she suddenly remembered - a line she'd skimmed in one of the books.  _Keep me from remembering whatever wants me to remember it_. Something bad - something bad had happened. Something was warning her away from this action. But she didn't want to remember. She felt too good, wrapped in the chiseled marble of his arms. They had done this before, and it had felt so good, so amazingly good. That was all she wanted to remember.

He moved, carrying her back to his room, his smoky-sweet smell light and pleasurable in her nostrils and on her tongue. She exhaled and drew in another breath just so she could feel his scent linger in her lungs. This was good - far better than waking to darkness and fearing ghosts. Whatever her mind begged her to remember - one of those things tossed aside by his overwhelming, dazzling presence - she didn't care. Later, she would face the consequences. Now she wanted him.

There were no words this time as he lay her down in his bed and covered her with his body. Each brush of his cold hands was perfect, driving her higher. She let him light a fire in the grate as she undressed, watching his body curve and arch, her eyes never leaving his pale form. He was back at her side and breathing harshly before she registered he had moved from the fireplace, and she saw strange emotions glimmering in his eyes, the dark gold enhanced by the warm, dancing firelight. It threw odd shadows around the room, but these shadows she could accept. Edward was here. Whatever else he might or might not do, she didn't for one minute believe he'd allow a ghost - if there were ghosts - to touch her. Certainly not now, not with that anguished, hungry look on his face.

"Kiss me," she whispered, and he did.

His mouth was perfect, she thought as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth, closing her teeth around the cool flesh for an instant before releasing him. A rumble began in his chest, low and indistinct, and he pressed harder against her. He shifted, his arms blurring for less than an instant, and when they closed around her again, his shirt was gone. His head dipped down, his body nudging her onto her back as he closed his mouth over a nipple. Bella breathed in abruptly, arching her back into his touch, feeling his body settle on top of hers as she wrapped her legs around him. Yessss, a part of her hissed, this was exactly what she wanted. To feel encompassed, encapsulated, his body entwined with hers, holding her so very close. The rumble in his chest that she could only assume was a growl too low for her human ears to hear was better than a thrumming human heartbeat, in her opinion. More sensual. She could feel it when he pressed his chest against hers and stole her breath with his mouth, and she could almost  _almost_  hear it, just at the lowest edge of her register.

"Need you, Edward," she whispered.

"Don't run from me again," he countered, his voice just as low, just as needy.

Had she run? Bella couldn't quite remember. If so, she couldn't think why. Why would she run from this chest, these arms, that voice? He slid inside her, hot and cold fusing to create a wonderful kind of warmth, and she arched her back, gasping at the strange, intense feeling of being so close to him. Her mind blanked fully then, giving over to the pleasure of touch, and she turned and writhed and moved with him, muscle memory and instinct taking over where thought was useless. Eventually she cried out sharply, pleasure seizing her body as endorphins flooded her brain, washing her in a hazy sort of bliss.

It was only afterward that her mind caught up with her body, and she remembered exactly what she had wanted to forget the moment Edward's skin touched hers.

His head was buried against her shoulder, his arms holding her tightly and their bodies still rocking a little. Bella shifted slightly and he trembled against her, his arms tightening. He took a deep breath, inhaling her flushed skin, as if steeling himself for something brutally unpleasant. Slowly he pulled away, breaking the fusion of their linked bodies. In the golden firelight, Bella saw in his eyes the pain she'd seen earlier that day when he confronted her in the library. It slammed against the pleasure-induced chemicals in her brain and bit deeply into her heart, leaving her feeling even more raw than she had before.

"Bella, we shouldn't..." he said, his voice low and intense, vibrating with pain. "We can't..." In an instant he was off the bed, looking terrified. He hovered, clutching his discarded clothes in his arms, like a bird about to take flight. "I'm sorry," he said finally. His eyes darkened and clouded over. "You're right - I did lie. I'm sorry, but I can't do this. We can't. Not like this, not anymore."

Within a heartbeat, he was gone.

* * *

Bella stared into the fire for the rest of the night, slow tears tracking down her face though she was nowhere near sure precisely what she was crying for. The loss of Edward, certainly. But what else? Everything. Nothing. She waited until the fire was nothing but a heap of spent coal and ash and the sky had lightened to its usual overcast dawn before huddling back into her clothes and then rushing to her bathroom, showering violently even though she was used to washing at night, after creeping around the dusty, grimy house. She didn't know why she felt the need - this was nothing like she'd felt after Seattle, when she thought she might never be clean again. For a week or so, it had been bad enough that she'd seriously considered scrubbing with steel wool. Washcloths and loofas just didn't seem to be enough.

This was different. Before she'd been washing off the memory of someone else. Now it almost felt like she wanted to erase herself. Edward had run from her, and she didn't blame him. Now that she remembered, she couldn't blame him at all. Not for running. She'd coerced him twice. And while his body had clearly enjoyed it - the cold evidence still lay within her - she still felt deeply guilty. None of this was fair to her, but it wasn't fair to him, either.

She didn't know if he was gone for good, if she'd ever see him again. She didn't allow herself to wonder about that. Part of her believed strongly that she deserved to be abandoned here in this foreign country, with no money and little prospect of earning any. Another part of her couldn't quite believe Edward would do that to her...but then again, what if she'd just pushed him too far? What if last night had been the final straw?

Bella wandered the halls for a while, but she couldn't catch a whiff of Edward's alluring scent. She wasn't sure what she could possibly say to him if she did manage to find him, because it was impossible to explain something to someone else that she didn't even understand. She chewed nervously on her lower lip, sure that her human sense of smell paled to nothing in comparison to Edward's. He'd managed to find her when she was locked in her father's garage, and somehow he had stumbled across her in the woods when she lay unconscious. Had it been dumb luck, that rainy night he'd first rescued her? Or had he been able to sense her presence, somehow - an enhanced sense of smell, perhaps?

Not that it mattered terribly now. She rubbed her eyes, knowing they were red but not caring at the moment. Her head ached and her body wanted sleep but she had no wish to return to either bed. Either Edward was around and didn't want to be found, or he had left. Neither option was pleasant.

Without the knowledge that he was nearby, the big empty house seemed to press even harder on her shoulders, the silence heavy in her ears. It throbbed with an almost malicious kind of waiting quality - thick and tense. Bella made a quick decision. If Edward wasn't here, she had to learn to fend for herself. She ran through hallways and up flights of stairs to a room she had come across before. Inside a delicate little secretary, she found a musty cloth bag. Inside the bag were several old gold coins, which she now spilled out onto her palm. She hated taking things, but this house was full of riches and a few old coins forgotten in a drawer probably wouldn't hurt anything. Remembering Carlisle's calm, pleasant smile, she couldn't believe he would begrudge her. She pocketed the coins, relishing the feel of denim against her legs once again, and quickly left the house.

She'd been outside for brief periods during the past few weeks, but never outside the graveled confines of the courtyard. She was unsure whether she was permitted to leave the grounds, or for that matter exactly where the boundary line was. But Edward did not appear, did not attempt to stop her as she stepped haltingly down the long, rocky driveway. The road was pitted, pocked with holes from disuse and weathering. Trees lined the drive, but Bella did not know what kind they might be. They were deciduous, and that was all she knew. Bare branches stretched, skeletal and cold, above her head. She walked on a wet cover of brown leaves and hoped it would not rain while she was out.

A small gatehouse sat where the drive met with a paved road, and Bella peered through the window. It was just a little two-room stone cottage really - nothing much. Dust and webbing proved no one had been there in a very long time. But in a little covered area just next to the gatehouse, Bella found a bicycle.

It wasn't fancy, but the tires were full and firm, and nothing squeaked or rattled too badly when she moved the kickstand and rolled it a few feet experimentally. Had Edward left it for her, knowing she might come down this way eventually?

She still didn't want to accept anything from him - especially not now, with guilt still riding heavily on her shoulders. But she'd no idea how far it was to any sort of civilization, and she was unused to long walks, having stayed inside so long. Feeling a little trepidation given her predilection for clumsiness, Bella carefully climbed on the bike and hesitantly moved forward.

She hadn't been on a bicycle in a long time, but after a moment's wobbling she found the old saying was true: her body had not forgotten how to do this. She kept her speed down and stayed on the verge, her eyes and ears wary for the sound of any vehicles. After a moment she remembered she was in Britain and suddenly wondered if she should be riding to the far left rather than the far right. After glancing behind her, she crossed the road. It felt too strange, though, so she crossed back. There was no ditch, so she could easily veer off into the wet grass beside the road if a car came barreling toward her.

But no cars did come, and within the hour Bella found herself entering a small town that looked like it came right out of a picture book. Shops clustered together along a main street no more than three blocks long, and houses fanned out from there but not very far and not very many. Bella rolled to a stop in front of the bank and climbed off her bike, stretching her legs and rolling her ankles. Her butt was sore, too. In Phoenix she would have been afraid to leave the bicycle unattended, but in Forks it didn't matter, and this was a small town, too. She leaned the bike against the stairs and, heart pounding with anxiety and exertion, she quietly slipped inside.

There was no bulletproof shield separating her from the one teller, no rope showing her where to line up. There was also no one in the lobby except herself and the teller. Stepping hesitantly toward the counter, she offered him a shy smile.

"What can I do for you today?" he asked with a pleasant enough smile. He didn't sound like the polished British actors in movies, but Bella liked his accent. His face was ruddy and nondescript, his eyes a watery blue. "You one of the American exchange students staying up at Ellison House?"

"Yes," Bella said quickly, hoping it was the right answer. Had Edward made up a plausible story so she could go into town without raising suspicions? There was no way she could possibly pass for a local with her accent, and in a town this small, everyone probably knew each other anyway.

"Only seen one of you so far - nice looking boy," the banker said. "Said you were here doing some remodeling on the place. You look a little small to be doing all that heavy work, though."

"Design," Bella managed to say.

"Ah. Well then. What can I help you with?"

He seemed not to suspect anything, so Bella felt more comfortable pulling the three coins from her pocket and putting them on the counter. "The owner paid us all with some of these the other day," she said, carefully adjusting the story she had thought up while biking. "I know they can't be used as real currency, but I was wondering if there was any place in town to sell them. We're all getting hungry and our school didn't give us enough money to live on."

The banker picked up one of the gold coins, holding it in the light. "These are half-guineas - nice quality, too. 1756. I have no idea whether that's a good collectible date or not, but Archie will."

"Archie?"

"The butcher," the teller said, handing the coins back. "He's an avid collector. All his life he's been itching to get inside Ellison House to see what might be left in there. If these are worth anything, I'm sure he'd buy them from you. Give you a fair price, too."

"Thank you," Bella said, her smile small but grateful.

"No problem. Good luck with the house," the teller said, and Bella nodded. She left the bank and headed a block back the way she'd come, certain she'd seen a sign for the butcher. She shuddered a little, eying the window display of cured meats. She'd never been inside an actual butcher's shop before. Maybe they still had them in places like New York, but she'd always done all grocery shopping at a one-stop grocery store. This idea of stopping at the butcher's for meat and the baker's for bread was...quaint. She wanted to like it, but everything around her was so unfamiliar and it grated on her sensitive nerves. She was already feeling a little sick from lack of food and sleep, and miserable because she had done something to Edward she didn't think was forgivable. She was alone among strangers, and now she had to interact with them. None of it made her happy, and she entered the butcher's shop with her shoulder's slightly hunched.

"Well, if it isn't a much prettier student than the tall boy who keeps coming by," a voice said, and Bella took a deep breath as she turned to face the man behind the counter. His glass display cases were full of cured meats and fresh cuts. There was even a full half a pig on ice! Its dead, unmoving face made Bella's stomach roll uncomfortably, and she forced herself to look away.

The butcher was better. He was in his fifties, and balding under a blue hairnet that he wore with no embarrassment. Straying from the stereotype, he was not round at all. He looked like the pork ribs for sale in his case - long and lean. He wasn't dressed all in white, either - just a white apron over a blue striped shirt.

"I'm taking over the cooking," Bella said quietly, hoping she was playing along well enough. "He got voted out of the kitchen."

The butcher chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Didn't seem like chef material, if you ask me."

"I also have these," Bella said, pulling out the coins again. "The bank teller said you might be interested in buying some?" She held her open hand up for Archie to see, the coins gleaming. "The owner paid us with them, but they're no good as currency."

"And haven't been for a while. May I?"

Bella nodded, but she spilled the coins onto the counter next to the cash register. She didn't want a strange man touching her, even if it was only to pluck a coin from her hand.

He picked one up and turned it over in his palm, examining it. "Not a terribly rare year," he noted. "But good quality. You've seen Dr. Cullen, then?"

"Yes," Bella said, blinking a little. She had no idea the townspeople knew Carlisle, or that he used his real name. If Cullen  _was_  his real name.

"Met him once, years and years ago. He was a young doctor then, just starting out. Inherited the place from a grand-uncle or something like that. Must be an old man himself now."

"Not so old," Bella said, a small smile flashing across her mouth before she could stop it. Actually, she realized, she had no idea how old Carlisle was. Old enough that he had changed Edward almost a century ago.

"I'll give you two hundred pounds apiece," Archie said, returning the coins to the countertop. "That's the value of their weight in gold, plus more for the good quality."

Bella had had no idea what they might be worth, so she was more than content with his offered price. "The teller at the bank said you'd be fair," she said quietly. "I don't know, but it sounds good to me."

The butcher grinned. "I'll take one now and give you cash. Come back next week, and we'll exchange another. I don't have enough lying around to buy all three at once." He opened the register and counted out two hundred in ten and twenty-pound notes. "It's not stealing from the till when you own the place," he said, winking at her. Bella couldn't help but smile back. "Now, what can I get for you today? Interested in trying any local favorites? Pretty boy wasn't, but you look like you have more sense and less stubbornness to you."

"What do you recommend?" Bella asked, hesitant to agree too quickly. She had no real idea where she was in relation to anywhere else in the UK. Was she close to Scotland? Did they still eat haggis in Scotland? She was willing to try the local cuisine, but only up to a point. When they started talking about boiling oatmeal in organs, she drew the line.

"Ever tried black pudding?"

"No." Bella knew enough about British food to understand pudding did not mean delicious chocolate goop in a little snack-sized cup, but that was about it. "How do you cook it?"

The butcher's smile grew wider. "Oh, I knew you'd be more fun than he was! Run over to the chip shop across the road. Tell them I sent you, and ask for the local special. Then come on back and tell me what you think."

Bella hesitated only a moment before she mentally shrugged and obeyed. The old butcher seemed harmless enough, and it was lunchtime anyway. No matter what he tried to feed her, she figured, it couldn't make her feel any worse than she already did.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Arriving back at the manor, Bella slowly put her groceries away and then took a deep breath. She still could not smell any hint of Edward, and she didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing in her mind. During her trip to town she had been able to push the questions and panic back from her mind, but now that she was alone again in the big old house she wasn't sure if she could still continue to ignore the questions pulsing and roiling in her mind. She was afraid to confront how she felt; she didn't want to cry anymore. She was sick of moping around the dusty, grimy manor, sick of the quiet - even sick of the grandeur, the old-fashioned beauty of the house.

Bella was used to the western United States, a world away from this place. She was used to the white stucco and red tiled roofs of Phoenix, of strip malls coated in graffiti, of the staccato, guttural lilt of rough Spanish shouted from street corners. It was a different world from Forks, where the trees dripped almost year-round, and mud and forest detritus coated her shoes and the wheels of her truck, where it was not strange to see log cabins nestled near mobile homes, and abandoned buildings rotted quietly into the muck.

But there was still something similar between Phoenix and Forks - something about the western U.S. where almost no one was an actual native, where people moved in and out of towns and cities at whim and no one really expected their children to settle close to home. It was a way of thinking even more than an accent or dialect, and it was  _hers_. Beautiful as this place was, she did not belong here. This was not home, and could never be. Rose told her once that home was more than a roof over her head, and she hadn't really understood before now. But this house, grand as it was, was not her home. She had spent weeks here virtually alone, with nothing but sporadic reminders that Edward was around. Now she knew the truth of Rose's words - Ellison House was not her home. It was beautiful. It was amazing. But she didn't want to be here; she wanted something different. For the first time in her life, she realized that she'd never really had this thing called  _home_.

She'd thought she had one with Renee. But Renee rarely acted like a proper mother, like she thought a mother should. It wasn't that she wanted to go back to the 1950's and force Renee to be a perfect homemaker with breakfast on the table when she woke, and dinner ready promptly at six. That wasn't what she meant. But she was realizing now, while physically alone, just how alone she'd been in Renee's house. It wasn't just that her mother had been scatterbrained. Ditziness was no crime. But Bella was realizing just how much she'd craved a real adult presence when she was younger. She was not properly equipped to parent herself and, at times, Renee as well. Not as a six or eight year old child, and not now, either. That was one of the reasons - just one - that she'd given Mason up for adoption. She had had so little positive parenting when she was younger, and now she wasn't at all sure she could ever properly care for a child of her own. Even were she to remove all other factors - her youth, her utter hatred for Mason's father, the fact that she doubted she had either house or home to return to, if she ever left Ellison house - she still did not know if she could properly raise and care for a child. Ever. Simply because she had never really been cared for herself.

Pushing those morbid thoughts away, Bella took a deep breath. She stood in the big empty kitchen for a long minute, listening to the nothingness that surrounded her. What to do now?

One thing at a time, she decided. Darkness was falling fast, and she wanted to find a place she felt comfortable before it fully set in. She considered her stomach, but didn't feel hungry. Black pudding had turned out to be some kind of sausage-thing, and the chip shop had battered and deep-fried it. They claimed it was their special touch. Bella wasn't sure about that breading, but she wasn't going to question something they seemed so proud of. Still, it had filled her up and her stomach felt...comfortable. Not hungry. She filled a water bottle in case she wanted it later, because she hated creeping around the big house in the dark, and then left the kitchen.

Her first stop was her room. The electricity still didn't work, so she flipped the bathroom light on and left the door wide open. Thankfully darkness hadn't quite settled in yet, and she could still see fairly well. She made a face at the figures on the tapestries and opened her wardrobe.

Her clothes were still there. She'd been half afraid that Edward would have taken them away again, but apparently he hadn't. She bundled them all in her arms and dumped them on the bed. To the pile she added her toothbrush and toothpaste and some of the soap and shampoo that had been left in her bathroom. There were matches by her fireplace, and she tucked those in her pocket. She left the nightgowns and robes in the wardrobe before tucking the counterpane around her pile and adding a single pillow from the bed. Bundling it all into her arms, she carefully picked her way down the stairs, to the library.

Everything there looked just as she remembered. In the dying light from the grand windows, she laid a fire in the big stone fireplace. It took a few tries to light it - Charlie had forced her to learn outdoor skills, but she had never kindled a fire in a fireplace, only while camping. But soon she had a large, warm fire that lit the lower floor of the room with a ruddy, friendly light. She opened her bundle and removed the pile of clothes and the pillow, then piled the toiletries in her arms and took them to the kitchen. She brushed her teeth quickly at the big sink in the scullery, leaving everything there.

Bella had made the firm decision that she was not returning to the room Edward had put her in. She would continue to work on cleaning and organizing the library, and live there and in the kitchen and scullery, until she figured out what she was going to do next. It all depended, she supposed, on whether Edward had truly abandoned her here in Carlisle's house. What she might do if he had, she didn't know. She picked up the cleaning supplies and lamp oil she'd purchased in town, carrying them back to the library as she thought. What could she do, really? She couldn't work here in Britain without any ID, and she couldn't travel either. She couldn't do  _anything_  without identification. She couldn't rent a car, or an apartment, or even a hotel room. And Bella refused to go to the authorities. If she went to the police, they would want to know how she got into the country without identification. No matter how angry she was at Edward, she just couldn't endanger his family by potentially exposing their secret. She wouldn't.

So what else was there to do? Bella hoped she'd be able to think of something if she just gave herself some more time.

Time seemed to be one thing she did have, and Bella tried to be glad of it. She folded her clothes neatly and put them in the small shelf space on top of books she'd already cleaned, then took the pillow and counterpane and made herself a little bed near the fire. With next week's money - if she was still here next week - she would buy herself a sleeping bag, she thought. Something other than this woven antique that she didn't really want to use, and probably shouldn't be on the floor. Idly, she thought about moving to the tiny little gatehouse she'd found on the property. But there was likely no electricity there at all, which meant no hot water. Hell, she didn't even know if there was running water, hot or cold. And then there were the books. Looking around the library, she didn't know if she really wanted to leave these books.

Bella closed and locked the library door, feeling a little safer that way even though she knew a locked door probably wouldn't keep any ghosts away, if ghosts there were. She drew the heavy drapes closed as soon as the light faded, and by firelight she busied herself cleaning the two oil lamps. She had never used one before, but it seemed simple enough. She filled the bowls with enough amber-colored lamp oil to wet the lower end of the wick, then reassembled the lamps. She didn't know, but she thought she should let them sit for a while and soak up the oil before she tried to light one. The fire was perfectly adequate as long as she stayed close to it.

Which is what she did now, scooting an armchair closer to the hearth and then pausing, leaning against the tall upholstered back. She chewed on her lip as she gazed at the wealth of reading material surrounding her. Normally practically anything would work to hold her interest, but not tonight. Tonight she needed something compelling enough to distract her from the things she did not want to think about, the emotions she did not want to feel. Without really consciously deciding, she knelt in the corner and pulled out the first of Carlisle's black-bound diaries.

Settling in the armchair, heart beating strongly, Bella opened the cover. This book was bound with thick thread and it did not look machine-made. The leather did not feel the same as she remembered hard-bound books feeling. It was soft, and the pages thick and stiff. There was no title page or anything - the text started immediately. Carlisle wrote with absolutely beautiful calligraphy, but it was difficult to read. He used a strange, swirling F in place of the letter S* and his spelling was not modern. Though she had to admit, it was at least consistent. When he misspelled something, he misspelled it everywhere. He also filled the whole page, leaving no margins anywhere. All taken together, it made it difficult to make out exactly what he was saying. Casting her eyes around, Bella at last managed to find a date nestled in the text.

April 1668. She could only sit and stare for several moments. Certainly she'd known for a while now that Carlisle was old, but she hadn't quite realized just how old. He had walked the earth with  _Shakespeare_ , for chrissakes! Swallowing hard, she continued puzzling over the Elizabethan English. While there were many words and phrases she could not decipher, she was able to get the gist of the meaning, thankfully. The story that unfolded before her eyes as she carefully turned each page fascinated her.

Carlisle had been the spoiled only son of a minor lord, which explained the family estate. After centuries of faithful Catholicism, his grandfather had converted as a political expedient. He suspected his grandfather's piousness consisted of nothing more than a healthy wish to keep from being executed by the Anglican monarchy. His father, on the other hand, was a religious extremist. He used his wealth and influence to carry out raids against Catholics and traitors to the crown as well as the supernatural creatures he believed lurked in the shadows of his world. Carlisle had not believed, when he was growing up, in witches, werewolves, vampires, and the like.

A chance encounter one dark night proved him wrong. Very wrong.

Bella felt her heart go out to Edward's father when she read haltingly his description of the transformation. Three days of agony, of a ceaseless burning that consumed everything human and left an impenetrable body ravenously lusting for blood. He had refused to give in to the thirst, believing in the sanctity of human life. He battled the thirst for months, doing everything in his power to kill himself so as not to be a danger to others. Nothing worked - neither drowning nor freezing, neither starvation nor suffocation.

It was completely accidental that he learned he could subsist on the blood of animals, and over time he learned to control the impulse to maim and kill. A year after his death, he returned to his father's house.

The reunion had not ended well. Carlisle learned that his mother died soon after his transformation, giving birth to a sister that also did not survive the ordeal. His other sister had married, and his father was alone. His trials had turned him bitter, and he did not welcome the son he had mourned as dead. He took one look at Carlisle, proclaimed him the vampire Carlisle knew himself to be, and gathered an angry mob of villagers - pitchforks, torches, and all - to hunt him down.

Knowing he could never return home again, Carlisle fled to the Continent. He spent time at the court of the French king, claiming to be a disowned English son, which was no more than true. But trouble in the French court eventually convinced him to press onward. He traveled widely, visiting China even, before finally settling for a time in Italy.

It was there, as he continued the study of medicine that had so fascinated him from boyhood, that the Volturi found him.

Bella sucked up the information like a dry sponge, fascinated not only by Carlisle's story but also the inadvertent facts she learned as she read. The change from human to vampire was not pleasant, and it required a bite that did not kill - something terribly difficult for a blood-frenzied vampire to accomplish. The bite caused three days' of burning, after which one emerged immortal. From what Carlisle wrote, Bella gleaned that many myths about vampires were just that - myths. They did not sleep during the day. In fact, they did not sleep at all. She'd known this already about the Cullens, but now Carlisle's diary made it clear it was merely part of their nature and not symptomatic of some dread disorder. They could not eat human food, not even to fool the humans around them, though it still smelled appealing, and many continued to crave the taste of the foods they had most enjoyed as humans. They did not have fangs, but their teeth were sharper than diamond, sharper than anything else in the known world. The only things that could penetrate their skin were vampire teeth and werewolf claws.

Werewolves. Bella lay the second volume of Carlisle's diary in her lap and stared into the fire. So werewolves were real, too. What else, she wondered? Had she really been so ridiculous to fear ghosts in this old house? What else could possibly be out there, haunting the night?

Bella fell asleep curled in the big armchair eventually, the third volume of Carlisle's diaries nearly finished. He had not written often at first - not as much as he did later, she'd learned, paging through a volume near the end of the stack. By the 1950's he recorded something nearly every week, though early on months could pass without a single word. It was a fascinating history lesson, as Carlisle chronicled major events on the world scene and how they affected him - or didn't.

When she slept, she dreamed of Carlisle's pale hair and golden eyes, dreamed of him and his family dressed in various kinds of historical garb. Esme was stately beside him - a queenly wife. Rosalie and Alice were exquisite in long flowing dresses, and Jasper...Jasper looked pretty good in ruffles and pleats. The only one she didn't dream of was Edward.

* * *

A court summons. A  _court summons_. Charlie stood in his kitchen, staring at the piece of paper in his hand. Not only had his petition to annul the adoption of Isabella's bastard son been denied, but now someone had the audacity to issue him a court summons. He, the chief of police! Charlie snorted and tore the paper in two. No way was he going. He wasn't stupid. He knew his rights. Isabella and that bastard were his.  _His!_  No one could take them away from him! Only Renee could even challenge his authority in court - not that she would. Crazy motherfucking woman probably didn't care one way or another what happened to her daughter. And he'd win anyway, if there were any sort of custody dispute. All he had to do was flash his badge, and the court wouldn't even question his right to his daughter.

Charlie sat heavily on his couch, wrinkling his nose. He hadn't realized how bad the place smelled until Isabella came to live with him full-time and started keeping it clean. She'd been gone for over a month now, and things were getting pretty bad. He'd tipped over several heaping ashtrays while trying to walk to bed, and ash and cigarette butts were scattered around and ground into the carpet. Glass bottles and aluminum cans lay scattered everywhere, and he kicked them further into corners and under furniture as he walked from one room to another.

He'd resumed his usual habit of eating at the town diner, and knew it was a good idea. The town saw him every evening - the lone cop, worried and anxious, hoping his no-good runaway daughter would come home to him.

Charlie had been careful not to say anything bad about Isabella in the presence of others, instead merely guiding them to the conclusions he wanted. Like at the grocery store. He smiled as he popped open a can of Rainier and remembered that particular conversation. It had been almost too easy.

Doris, the elderly checker, had smiled when he reached her with his usual weekly haul: two six-packs of Rainier, some sugary stuff from the bakery for breakfast, a small can of Folger's, and some lunch meats and bread in case he had a late-night food craving. He bought cigarettes on the rez to avoid paying tax, and he bought hard liquor and cases of beer in Port Angeles to avoid the small-town prying eyes of the citizens of Forks. All his other dietary needs were taken care of at the diner.

Doris knew Isabella was missing - the whole town knew Isabella was missing - and she smiled pityingly at Charlie as she started scanning and bagging his groceries.

"I hate to see you eating like this again, Chief," she said. "When your girl was here, seems like she had you eating healthier. More home-cooked meals. Bet you miss that."

Charlie grit his teeth against the urge to choke her. He hated the pitying tone most people took toward him, but it helped his cause so he swallowed his anger. "I'd happily eat take-out every night, or cook Bells her favorite meal for the rest of her life, if she'd just come back home," he said, sighing heavily. He let his shoulders sag and his head droop a little, as if weary with worry.

"Seemed like such a sweet girl," another voice mused, and Charlie turned to see Mrs. Cope, the school secretary, standing behind him in line. "I just can't imagine she ran away. Have you checked thoroughly, Chief? Are you sure she wasn't kidnapped? Your Bella was - is - such a beautiful young woman. I'd be more anxious about kidnapping if I were you."

"Well," Charlie said, trying to choose his words carefully, "I wouldn't want this to go any farther..."

Both women brightened and shifted closer to him. He rolled his eyes internally. This was too, too easy.

"...but the truth is, she and I had had some...trouble...before her disappearance."

"What kind of trouble, Chief?" Doris murmured, rapt, just waiting for any juicy details.

"It got back to me she was having an inappropriate relationship with one of the Cullen boys." He hung his head a little lower. "I'm ashamed to say it now, but when I found out she was doing things she shouldn't be doing until she's older, I scolded her pretty harshly. I was just trying to set her straight! I didn't want her to limit her options, so young, by having a baby or potentially getting her heart broken. I can see now I should have just let it go. Maybe then she'd still be here with me, instead of who knows where." He coughed a little as if clearing his throat against an unmanly sort of emotion.

"Oh, you poor man," Doris cooed. "Young girls today just don't do what their told! You never saw me running around in short skirts and skin-tight tops like they do today, no indeed." She reached out and patted Charlie's arm. "It's not your fault, Chief. Don't beat yourself up over doing what's best for your daughter. If she's ungrateful enough to run off just because you imposed a little discipline, well, it just shows that ex-wife of yours didn't know how to raise a daughter."

"Renee  _is_  a free spirit," Charlie said slowly, as if pondering Doris's words. Inwardly, he laughed. That was the understatement of the century.

"Isabella never seemed flighty," Mrs. Cope said doubtfully.

"How could you know better than her own father?" Doris argued. "Hush yourself, now! Can't you see the poor man's been through enough?"

And Mrs. Cope had hushed. Thinking back, Charlie smiled in satisfaction. Enough conversations like that, and the whole town would be behind him. If he could manage to work in some more stinging barbs about the Cullen boy's bad influence over Isabella, that would be even better. Doris was an inveterate gossip, and he knew that word about Bella's troublemaking would spread through town from her as well as from him. Anyone in Forks would be happy to vouch for him as a character witness, should such a thing ever be needed. All he had to do was wait. Things would turn out just fine. Let the Cullens think they were safe with their big house and Isabella's bastard. Eventually he'd win against them. After all, he thought, fingering his badge, he had the law on his side. What did they have? A snot-nosed brat that couldn't even talk. Wherever Isabella was, she was not with them now. Even if someone thought they could talk her into testifying against him, she wasn't here to do it.

Narrowing his eyes, Charlie took another pull at his Rainier. If it came down to it, he'd make  _sure_  she kept that pretty little mouth of hers shut. By any means necessary.

* * *

Alice met Edward at La Guardia airport in New York. He was walking quickly to catch his connecting flight to Seattle, hands stuffed deep in his trouser pockets, his expression dark and troubled. No one dared confront him when he was in a mood like this, and he knew it. He deliberately scowled, knowing it kept people away. No panhandlers or salespeople approached him. No one from the coffee shop offered him a little free sample, and no airport employees asked if he needed help finding his way. In the part of his mind where he read the thoughts of others, Edward listened to make sure he wasn't raising any suspicions with security. There was nothing funny about being mistaken for a terrorist. Not when his entire body could be considered a lethal weapon. What would the Volturi do, he wondered, to a vampire detained by Homeland Security. The thought was not a particularly pleasant one.

But none of his thoughts were pleasant. He felt cascading waves of deep, intense guilt, each worse than the last, as he maneuvered around the crowds of people walking along the concourse. He felt guilty for leaving Bella as he had, but he just couldn't stay. Not with Rose's words echoing in his ears. Not with the knowledge that something was deeply wrong - something about Bella's actions with him just weren't right. It felt amazing - indescribable, really - when she pressed her warm, soft self against him, asking for his touch. But the frenzy of her heart and the waves of fear he could scent on her skin drew him back to reality. Not soon enough to save him the guilt of leaving her in his bed, naked and alone, but it prevented him from making the same mistake a third time. And a fourth. He had no idea how many times Bella might reach for him out of fear and loneliness, when really he wanted her to turn to him with love. Nothing more.

And so, grasping at Rosalie's advice because he had absolutely nothing else left, he had gathered all the willpower in his body and left Bella alone. He wasn't strong enough to stay in that house when she was there, possibly crying, so he tore out the door and into the woods, running south.

It wasn't until hours later that he realized he was headed toward Heathrow, and a good hour after that before he really made the conscious decision to return to Forks. He needed to talk to his family. Bella had enough self-preservation instinct to take care of herself, he hoped. She didn't seem to really want him around anyway, and this way he was at least following Rose's advice. He'd go back home and demand some answers, and then decide what to do. Leaving Bella permanently was never an option in his mind, but everything else was still on the table. Should he return her, as everyone seemed to want him to do? He certainly didn't want to. But Carlisle's words about bending kept returning to him. He didn't understand them. Bella did not seem to be bending, in his mind. She wasn't forgiving him, wasn't accepting all that he tried heaping at her feet. If Carlisle said she had learned to bend, Edward figured he must not be looking at things the right way yet. He'd never known Carlisle to be wrong before. Not like this.

A leap of faith, Carlisle had said. Faith and trust.

Edward didn't know if he could do it.

Bella was a good person - sweet and gentle, so quiet and unprepossessing. She was kind and forgiving - had even forgiven him the first bathtub fiasco without a qualm. It did not surprise him that she didn't forgive the kidnapping. That was another order of magnitude entirely. Edward wasn't a forgiving person, himself, and he doubted he'd ever be able to forgive someone who did something like that to him. But, then, no one would be forced to do it to him. He wasn't brainwashed by a sadistic creep. He didn't keep trying to put himself in harm's way. No one had to step in to keep him safe.

So wrapped up in his own guilt and the thoughts of the security officers, Edward didn't notice the amused, twinklingly bright thoughts of Alice until she planted herself in front of him and he nearly ran her over.

"Really, Edward, you should watch where you're going!" she playfully scolded, pointing one delicate finger at him. Her lovely little face broke into a brilliant smile, and she jumped into his arms. "I missed you!"

"Missed you, too," Edward groaned against the force of her arms. After living alone with Bella for weeks, he was a little unprepared for Alice's vampire strength. He was surprised to realize that he meant his words. He  _had_  missed the little sprite.

"Remember that next time you try to run off and be all solitary," she quipped. "Here." She handed him the handle of a suitcase he wasn't at all sure fit the strict carry-on specifications, even for first class. "You don't have any luggage, so you can carry mine."

"Where are you going?" Edward demanded, narrowing his eyes. She was blocking him from her mind. "What have you seen?"

"I saw you as soon as you made the decision to come home," she said, turning and beckoning him toward the gates for international departures. "Seeing you has been very hit and miss the past few weeks. I think whatever's stopping me from seeing Bella was working on both of you while you were living so closely together and all your thoughts and decisions revolved around her." She waved a boarding pass at him, emblazoned with her destination airport. Heathrow.

"How did you - "

"Psychic, remember?" she said, tapping her temple with a knowing little smile. "Rose and Emmett told us about your conversations with them." The smile bled from her face and she sobered. "I'm sorry you're having such trouble, Edward, I really am. I'm sorry I can't see Bella, and couldn't tell you what a bad idea it was to take her away."

Edward sighed. "So you know where she is?"

"Yup. I saw your decision, saw you leaving from Heathrow. Once I told Carlisle, he knew exactly where you'd be." She put her hand on his arm. "It's okay, Edward. I mean, I can't see how this will all turn out with Bella, but it's okay to go home. Rosalie won't rip you to shreds; I made her promise. I'm going to spend a little time with Bella, just the two of us. Esme wanted so badly to go, but she's needed at home right now. She and Carlisle have to act like Mason's parents, since they're the ones listed on the adoption certificate. They're also preparing for a hearing, where a judge will decide whether there's enough evidence to go forward with a case against Charlie. They really can't leave the state right now."

Edward felt hope suddenly rise in his heart, warm and fluttery, like the sound of Bella's sleeping heartbeat. "What's going on?" he asked quickly. "Are our chances good? Can you see?"

"I can't see the outcome of the hearing," Alice said regretfully, shaking her head a little. "It depends on the judge's decision, remember, and he won't make one until he's reviewed the evidence. I  _can_  see that Charlie is going to refuse his court summons. That won't bode well for him."

Edward felt some of the hope bleed from his body. "It's something, at least," he said, as much for his benefit as Alice's.

"Edward, no one blames you for wanting to protect your mate," Alice said quietly. They stopped in front of her gate. She turned to look at him, and did not particularly like what she saw. His eyes weren't black, but they were really too dark for him to be flying. She could see that he wouldn't attack anyone, but the flight to Seattle would not be pleasant for him. She made a note to call home and tell them to take him hunting as soon as possible. He looked older somehow, too, as if the past month had aged him. It was impossible for vampires to age in a physical way, but something about the set of his jaw and slope of his shoulders looked tired and old.

"She does." His voice was no more than a whisper.

"I don't think so. Not really." Alice shook her head fondly and reached up, laying her small hand against his cheek. "She's scared and angry and confused. That doesn't mean she hates you, and it doesn't mean this can't be salvaged. But neither of you are big talkers, and I'm willing to bet that's nine-tenths of your whole problem. You know, Jasper's not a talker, either. But I more than make up for it." She grinned widely, eliciting a wan echo from Edward's lips. "I push him when he clams up and gets pouty. If I didn't, he'd keep everything all bottled up inside and it wouldn't be good. The problem with you two is that neither of you are willing to push the other."

"I don't want to hurt her any more than I already have."

"And I bet you anything she feels precisely the same." Alice smiled again, trying to make the gesture as comforting as possible. "Go home for a while, Edward. I'll call every day and keep in touch, I promise. After a week or so, we can talk about what's next to be done. I don't disagree with keeping Bella away from her father. It's the method that was problematic, but your heart was in the right place."

"Thank you, Alice," Edward said, suddenly sweeping her into a tight hug. "I don't know what I'd do if - "

"Hush," she said, pushing at him. "I do. Now go on. Your flight's about to board."

"Will you be all right?"

"Right as rain," Alice assured him. "I can't wait to see Bella again! We are going to have so much fun!"

"I don't know how ready she is for fun," Edward cautioned.

"Oh, hush," Alice said, waving him away. "It's not me she's mad at."

* * *

Bella woke to sunlight - real sunlight, shining from a blue sky and warming the library. She frowned a little, sure she had closed the heavy curtains the night before. But the sight of so much blue after weeks and weeks of overcast was stunning. It took her breath away, and for full minutes she was content to do nothing but bask in the sunshine streaming through the windows. Outside it would be cold, she was sure, but the greenhouse effect caused by the glass made a delicious heat bleed through her body. She stretched, wincing as her joints popped, and pointed her bare toes out into the sun, casting shadows on the floor.

She smiled. She was sore from sleeping in the chair all night - not going to do that again, she told herself - but surprisingly happy, for all of that. She'd managed to sleep through the night without fear of ghosts, and though her dreams had not been full of bunnies and roses, neither had they been particularly unpleasant.

The full-body stretch alerted Bella to the presence of something heavy on her stomach. Assuming it was one of Carlisle's diaries she'd fallen asleep reading, she reached out a hand to catch it and put it on the floor.

But it wasn't a diary. It was a portable DVD player. Bella stared at the piece of electronic equipment as if she had never seen one before. How the hell had it managed to get there? She hadn't explored the entire house yet, but she was pretty sure nothing this modern existed on the whole of the property. Never mind that portable DVD players were a little useless now that everyone had tablets and video phones and netbooks, this...thing...did not belong here. But why would a ghost leave her a DVD player?

There was a little yellow post-it stuck to the closed device. In a very feminine hand, it said, "Watch me."

Okay, so the ghost was a woman. Bella shivered. She didn't want to watch the video. It was probably of her sleeping while the ghost hovered around her. No, she definitely didn't want to see that. She dropped the offending piece of equipment on the floor and jumped from her chair, ignoring the aches in her body. She was really getting sick of this. Maybe she  _should_  move down to the gatehouse, running water or no running water. She'd take bathing in a creek to ghosts any day.

Quickly she dressed, adding a warm sweatshirt to her usual t-shirt and jeans. She wanted to go out while it was still sunny, maybe walk around the grounds. She was sure the place was all over mud, but she didn't care. She'd take sun any way she could get it. Maybe she could find a blanket that didn't look like too much of an antique, and take a book outside. Find a nice place to curl up and read. She glanced again at the DVD player. It sat there innocently, not moving around as if it were possessed or anything.

No, she told herself firmly. No way was she watching whatever was on that video. Nothing a ghost wanted to show her could possibly be good.

Taking a deep breath, Bella left the comfort of the library and headed for the kitchen. She'd have some quick breakfast, then go outside. Surely ghosts couldn't harm her there, could they? Outside, in the sunshine?

She turned to enter the kitchen -  _her_  kitchen, which she'd scrubbed and organized until everything was perfect - and screamed.

The short, spiky-haired figure in front of her screamed, too, and dropped the metal teakettle with a loud crash.

"Jesus, Bella, calm down!" Alice said. "You shouldn't sneak up on vampires like that!"

"Since when is it possible to sneak up on vampires?" Bella whimpered, her hands over her mouth as she stared at Alice.

"As clumsy as you are, hell if I know." Alice managed a little giggle. "I was so wrapped up in trying to turn on this damn stove, I wasn't thinking about anything else." She took a deep, unneeded breath and laughed again. "Sheesh, Bella, I'm not a ghost! Quit looking at me like that."

Bella exhaled and launched herself across the room, tripping at the last minute. Alice caught her and they gripped each other tightly.

"I dreamed about you," Bella said, and Alice smelled salt a moment before she felt the first warm, wet touch of a tear on her neck.

"Shh..." Alice hugged her sister, grateful that nothing too terrible seemed to have befallen Bella since last they met. "It's okay. I'm here now."

Bella pulled away and rubbed at her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. "I hate crying," she said, sniffing hard.

"Maybe you wouldn't feel like doing it so often if you just let the tears come," Alice suggested gently. "But I'm not here to lecture. I'm here to cheer you up. How did you like your present?"

"Present?" Bella looked puzzled.

Alice frowned. There was no way Bella could have gotten up without finding it. "I left it with you when I found you still asleep," she said.

"The DVD player?" Bella blushed. "I didn't watch it. I thought - " She blushed deeper, but didn't continue.

"Well, go and do it now," Alice ordered cheerfully. "I hope you like it, I really do! Wait!" She grabbed Bella's arm. "Show me how to work the stove before you go. I want to have your breakfast ready when you're done."

"I'll show you," Bella said, her blush not fading, "but I'd rather you didn't cook for me. I...kind of like doing it myself."

Into the loaded silence, Alice smiled. "Okay," she said simply. Now, had that really been so hard, she wanted to ask Edward. All he'd had to do was  _ask_ Bella if she wanted him to cook for her, and that would have solved that little problem. Then Bella could have her way, and he didn't have to worry about whether or not he was doing the right thing, or what it meant when she refused to eat what he prepared. "Want me to come with you while you watch your video?"

"Please," Bella said, a small, shy little smile on her mouth. It looked like she wasn't entirely used to smiling. Oh, Edward, Alice whispered in her head. It had been unintentional, but he'd really put the both of them through completely unnecessary hell. "I'm sort of afraid you'll disappear."

"Oh, Bella." Alice clasped her hand and felt Bella's answering squeeze. "I'm sorry things happened this way, I really am. Usually I'm good with stopping our family from making bad decisions, but it's hard to see you."

"It's okay," Bella murmured. "It's not your fault."

"Maybe not," Alice said, "but I'm still sorry it happened. In case you were wondering, Edward feels awful about this. About hurting you, and leaving you so abruptly. He's sorry about that, he really is. But his guilt got the better of him, I'm afraid, and he was trying to follow advice from Rose. He made a mess of it, but there you have it. His heart was in the right place."

"It always is," Bella whispered, looking away for a moment. "Is he gone, Alice?"

"For now. It's best you have some time to work on  _you_ , sweets, before you take on the giant emo conundrum that is Edward."

"I hurt him." It was barely a breath, but Alice was standing right next to her and she heard it.

"He hurt you, too." Alice squeezed Bella's warm, soft hand again. "I know it feels like the end of the world now, but it'll get better. I promise."

"It's already better. You're here."

Alice beamed, feeling warmth flow through her at Bella's kind words. She knew her sister would far rather have Esme, but she and Rose were busy with Mason and the courts right now. Soon they would all be together again. Alice was relieved Bella seemed to be accepting her comfort and company better than Edward's. Not that she was happy Bella and Edward were at odds, but Bella must have been so lonely the past month. Alice hoped she'd be able to cheer her up and get some good feelings flowing while also giving Bella time to recover and process.

"Let's show you that video now," she suggested, and Bella willingly followed her back to the library. For whatever reason, she had not obeyed the post-it note and had left the DVD player sitting next to the chair. Alice hadn't meant to frighten Bella as she had. But when she'd arrived at Ellison house, she'd found her sister asleep, curled on her side in the big armchair. She looked so tired that Alice let her sleep, leaving her the DVD player in case she woke up. It wasn't exactly a teddy bear, but she hoped the video would bring the same sort of comfort.

Bella sat on the floor and waited, looking patient and a little nervous as Alice opened the player and turned it on. After a moment, Esme's warm, loving face appeared on the screen.

Bella gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth but otherwise remained silent.

"Hi, baby," Esme said. To Alice, the sucky little speakers made her mother sound weak and vaguely electronic, but Bella seemed entranced. Her beautiful brown eyes were bright with tears. "Alice says she's going to see you, and I am so glad we were able to finally find you. Edward would never hurt you, but I want you to know we did not agree with his decision to take you so far away, especially without telling anyone. Especially  _especially_  without telling you."

The first tear spilled over, but Bella made no move to wipe it away.

"Alice says to tell you what's been going on in Forks since you've been gone," Carlisle added, joining his wife on the white sofa and gazing into the camera. "I never bet against Alice, so here goes."

Bella let out a small sound halfway between a sob and a laugh.

"First things first. Mason is well, and as per your wishes, he's been given over to Rose and Emmett's care." Carlisle smiled his soft, calming smile. "He's brought joy to all of us, but especially Rosalie. I'm sure she'll tell you herself when she gets the chance, but Bella, you've given her the greatest gift anyone ever could. While everyone is anxious for you to come home, she and Emmett are absolutely over the moon about their new little charge. Thank you, sweetheart. It was a daring and courageous thing you did, bringing him to us. I want you to know that."

Esme put a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder and squeezed. "The social worker you met with came to see us and check on Mason soon after you disappeared. She asked questions about you and your father, and we showed her the video of you. She believes you, Bella, and wants to help you. We're working with her and the state patrol to bring your father to justice. That's why we couldn't come to you as soon as Alice picked up on your location, baby. Otherwise, believe us, we'd be there in a heartbeat. But we want to do everything we can to assure that you're safe from your father for good. Heidi is working as we speak to get a temporary restraining order and fostering agreement set up, so your father isn't allowed anywhere near you. When you come home, you'll return to us, baby, not him."

Carlisle cleared his throat. "There is the question of your mother. Normally you would be entrusted to her care during the proceedings against your father, but she's been quite evasive as of late. I'm sorry to bear bad news, but she hasn't returned any official mailings and she only sporadically answers her phone. When the social worker managed to finally speak with her, she seemed inclined to believe your father's side of things. I'm sorry, Bella, really I am. I wish things had worked out differently with her. But we love you, and we want you to come stay with us. Please remember that. For our kind, family is forever. These bonds don't break."

"We're going to go now, and let the others talk for a while," Esme said. "We love you, Bella. Stay strong. We'll all be together again soon, I promise."

The screen blacked out for a moment, and Alice heard Bella take a deep shuddering breath. She cautiously looked at the little human girl, not much bigger than herself. There were tears, but she was pretty sure they were happy ones. Mostly happy, anyway.

"Hi."

Alice jerked her attention back to the screen at the sound of her husband's nervous voice. She felt a deep ache, looking at his image on the tiny screen and knowing he was thousands of miles away. She missed him already. Still, this was where she needed to be right now, and if too many Cullens started disappearing at once people might get suspicious. It was good for Edward to show his face around town for a while so no one started linking his disappearance with Bella's. The school thought he was at home with some sort of dire infection, and Alice had been doing his homework, mimicking his handwriting perfectly. Now they would switch for a while, before Edward returned to Britain.

"I know we don't really know each other real well," Jasper said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. When he got nervous his accent became more pronounced, and Alice could hear it plainly. She smiled at her sweet man, awkwardly trying to participate even though he and Bella really hadn't had much contact. "But you've done a lot for my family, and I want to thank you for that. Also to tell you to hang in there." He took a deep breath. Alice hadn't heard him make this tape; she'd been out shopping. She wondered what he was going to say. "I'm not real good with words," he said. "Between Alice and I, she does the talking. But I wanted to say that...well, I see what you do to my brother. I know what it's like to be alone. I was so angry before I met Alice - trust me, Bella, it wasn't pretty. But when she found me it was like I found the missing part of myself. Like life made sense for the first time. I see that same feeling on Edward's face when he looks at you. Rose'll tell you to give him hell for taking you without your permission, and she's probably right, because Rose usually is. But just...think about maybe not giving him too much hell? Vampires mate for life, and for us, life is pretty much eternity. By protecting you, he's protecting himself. If you die, Bella, there's no one else. You're it for him - literally. He's my brother, so I understand how much of an idiot he is, and how moody and possessive he can be. He can't save himself...but maybe, maybe you can. Just think about it. And keep my girl in line while she's with you, huh? You know how crazy she can get." He threw a lazy wink at the camera, as if he knew exactly where Alice was sitting, before he was shoved aside by the giant bulk of Emmett.

"My turn!" Emmett announced. "Lemme through!" He settled himself on the couch and made a funny face at the camera. Bella giggled. "Hope that made you laugh, kiddo," he said, grinning widely. "Alice says your boyfriend's coming home. Don't worry. I'll beat him to a messy pulp for you, since your wimpy little human self can't manage it.'

Bella giggled again, and Alice was buoyed by that sound. Maybe lifting Bella's spirits wouldn't be too hard after all.

"Anyway, we've been having some fun with the little dude! Rose is all worried that you won't be able to handle living in the same house with him. If that's true, we can work it out somehow. Maybe get a place real close by and all, because I've still got to teach you how to play pinball, you know. But I think maybe you're stronger than even Rose thinks. Sure, you're a squishy little human, but I bet you could totally swallow nails." He frowned. "Not real nails. Not literally. I mean..." He scratched his head. "I don't know what I mean, but I mean it."

"I can see why Rose loves him," Bella said quietly, smiling at the screen.

"What, the dimples?" Alice winked at her. "That's all she'll admit to."

"Anyway, just wanted to say we're all waiting for you to come on home, little sis. Carlisle won't let me squash Charlie, but if you disagree just say the word. Seriously, he's cruising for a bruising. First I'd - "

"Can it," Rose ordered, shoving him over and sitting down in front of the camera. "Bella, ignore my oaf of a husband. There's no need to send a hit squad after your drunk of a father, because the state is taking care of it. Heidi, the social worker, went to the state patrol because the local police can't be trusted. We're going to take care of it the right way - Carlisle's way." She paused. "Even though I'd like a piece of him myself."

"Ooh," Emmett said, pushing his way into the camera's view again, "d'you want to know what Rosie here did to her first fiance? She took her bare hand and - "

Rose slapped said hand over Emmett's mouth. "Bella, I'm not going to gush over the baby. I don't gush, and I think you understand that by now. But...thank you." She sighed. "Maybe I can say more in person. Talking to a silent camera sounds really ridiculous, you know?"

Emmett left, and Rose adjusted herself on the couch. "I do want to say something about Edward, though. I told him to leave you alone and give you some time to process everything, and I still stand by that decision. He argued with me like mad, and I think you should know that. He really does love you, no matter how poorly he shows it. He's inexperienced at things like this, and the situation sucks for both of you." She moved again, leaning forward, and her golden eyes seemed to bore through the screen. "But you listen to me now, girl, and you listen good. Don't you dare - don't you  _dare -_ take him back before you're ready just because you feel sorry for him. Got it? You're all fucked up by what your asshole parents did to you, and frankly I'm amazed you're not more screwed up than you are. It's not meant as an insult, babe, and I hope you know that. It's just the truth. You need to settle with yourself first before you can settle with him. Don't be cowed. Don't pretend you forgive what you really don't, because lies like that - well meaning as they usually are - will kill a relationship. And, Bella, he really won't be able to withstand anything like this happening ever again. Little fights, sure. But nothing this serious. So please, figure yourself out now. You don't need all the answers right away - let's face it, you're just a seventeen-year-old girl, and nobody has all the answers at seventeen. But you need the most important ones. When you're ready, really ready, you'll know. Don't give in before then. Esme and I are always here when you need us. Now that we know where you are, we're just a phone call away. You have the pixie there, too. Don't worry; she's smarter than she looks."

"Hey!" Alice protested, but she really wasn't angry. The burning light in Bella's eyes made it impossible to feel anything but hope.

"Take your time, babe. Ask the tough questions. Be fearless. Know we love you."

Alice couldn't take her eyes off Bella as the screen went dark for the final time and Rose faded from view. She knew that look, that warmth burning almost painfully in Bella's big brown eyes.

It was life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "What you take to be an f is actually the so-called long s, also known as the medial s, to be differentiated from the terminal or short or round s, which we regard today as the conventional form. Throughout its history, the long s has always looked a lot like the lowercase f, to the extent of having a little nubbin vaguely reminiscent of a crossbar appended to its middle sometimes. But the two letters are not otherwise related." From The Straight Dope.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Edward sat alone at the same desk in biology class that he had shared for such a short time with Bella. Those few weeks before he really got to know her seemed a lifetime away now, each day that passed making them more and more distant. His unbeating heart ached for her. His body hurt, physically hurt, from the enforced separation. His emotions and his mind were clouded with thoughts of her.

Still, every time he glanced over at the seat next to him, it was empty.

He chafed at the trappings of normalcy, wanting to throw them aside. School, homework, and preparing for the first trial wasn't what he wanted to occupy his time. It was fine for everyone else - for people who didn't have more important things to think about. But Carlisle and Esme had trial prep well in hand and nothing else in Forks mattered as much as that. He was itching to return to England, return to Bella, but Alice kept telling him that now was not the time.

For a month she had been saying that, and for a month Edward had teetered on the edge of ignoring her. Only her daily updates on Bella's progress kept him sane.

Because it did sound like Bella was making progress. She had accepted Alice's presence happily, and together they were attacking the decrepit old house with a will. At first both Edward and Rosalie had been astonished and disbelieving to hear that Alice had actually purchased a set of overalls and was wearing them to manually scrub and mop and sweep. Carlisle had muttered something about his poor family estate never being the same again, though his eyes glinted with good humor. Emmett wanted photos, Esme worried about Bella taxing her human strength, but Jasper only smiled a little and held his peace. Edward was sure he received personal phone calls from Alice, and he felt a pang of jealousy. Jasper's mate called him while they were apart, but Bella had not attempted any sort of contact.

At first he hoped she might. A call, or even a letter. An email. Something to tell him that she was all right, that she was happy at Ellison House with Alice. But as the days and then the weeks dragged on, Edward's hope grew less and less. Was she still so angry that she couldn't even bear talking to him? He figured so. Now, on top of the kidnapping, he had to add the disgraceful way he'd left her. It was little wonder she didn't want to talk to him.

But deep in his heart, Edward still hoped.

Living with Mason in the house was difficult, but not as difficult as Edward had first thought. Rosalie and Emmett took care of the baby and did not expect anyone else to contribute. Esme and Carlisle both took time to cuddle and play with the boy, but no one forced Edward to join in. He had mixed feelings about Mason's presence in their lives, and he knew it would take a while for his antipathy to fade. The little boy was the embodiment of Bella's pain, and Edward didn't know if he'd ever be able to overlook that. But he was also starting to represent something else to Edward, something the vampire didn't like admitting even to himself.

Mason was a symbol of something that was supposed to be lovely and miraculous - good and kind and loving. His birth was a perversion of a young girl's hopes and dreams, and Edward felt a twisting ache in his gut every time he saw the baby. A baby was supposed to be created and born out of love, not pain and hate. And now that Bella had such terrible memories associated with the process, surely she would never want to go through it again. Part of him whispered that it was just as well - if she was truly to be his mate, she would have to be changed. Once changed, she could never reproduce again. It wasn't possible. So perhaps it was a good thing - possibly, maybe - that she would likely never want another child.

But the bigger part of Edward tried to distance himself from those thoughts. They were selfish, and he hated them. He wanted Bella to feel better, wanted her whole and healthy. He wanted her to have whatever she desired, and he wanted her desires unclouded by bad experiences and past heartache. And if she truly was unable to forgive him, did that not mean she would eventually want a human husband instead? One that could give her children, the way Edward could not? Did she not deserve that sort of happiness, if that was what she wanted?

The questions would not stop circling in Edward's mind, and he was giving himself a headache as he worried. More than anything, he wanted Bella near him. He wanted her soft voice telling him that she loved him, that everything was going to be okay.

But he couldn't have that. Not now, and maybe not ever. Not now, after the choices he'd made.

He'd thought he would be all right, would be able to live with Bella's anger, as long as he knew she was safe from harm. But now he wasn't so sure. After a month out of her presence - unable to see the soft fall of her dark hair, or hear the lilting beat of her heart - he was not so sure at all.

* * *

At first, everything had seemed great to Bella. Better than great, even. She had Alice, and while Alice wasn't Esme, she was the next best thing. She was cheerful and enthusiastic, and she didn't make assumptions the way Edward always did. She asked for Bella's opinions, but was always respectful when Bella didn't want to talk. She wasn't the mother figure Bella craved, but she was a sister and that was important, too. She was someone to giggle with, to bicker with about clothing, to do crazy things with that she would never, ever dream of doing with Edward.

The first couple of weeks, they had a manic blast. Alice didn't treat her like glass the way Edward did, wasn't always hovering and worrying about her eating and sleeping habits. They had pillow fights up and down the halls of the echoing mansion. Alice taught Bella how to slide down banisters, something she'd never done as a child. They made glorious messes in the kitchen while Bella tried to teach Alice how to cook.

One day Alice decided Ellison House needed an art studio, and they set to work making her one. They moved all the furniture out of a ground-floor room, then draped the walls with sheets to protect the old wallpaper. Alice left the next day and returned hours later with easels and paper and canvases, and bags bursting with art supplies. Oil paints. Pastels. Watercolors. Several heavy blocks of clay. Brushes of every size, and art books as well. Delighted, Bella joined Alice for hours of happy fun in the studio though she was well aware she had no real talent. It felt good to sit down and really apply herself to something again. She found, as she worked in the studio, that she actually missed school.

She didn't miss the trappings of high school - the petty jealousies and rivalries of the other students, the blind teachers who never bothered to ask about her constant injuries. But she missed learning, missed having projects to work on, ways to measure her own academic growth.

The moment she mentioned this to Alice, she was unceremoniously dragged to the library. A brown cardboard shipping box lay on a small table, and Alice handed it to her.

Bella opened the box curiously, and her eyes widened when she saw a stack of homemade DVDs, each one labeled with a different subject. She popped the first one into the DVD player, and Jasper's face appeared on the small screen. Without much introduction, he informed her that they would be studying American history and he wanted her first paper on the lead-up to the Revolutionary War in two weeks. Because she was living in England, he expected both British and American perspectives to be covered.

Bella stopped the DVD and rifled through the rest of the stack. Carlisle would be tutoring her long-distance in science, it looked like. Rosalie in English, and Alice said she would help her with math in person since that was a difficult subject to tackle on her own.

"Esme wanted to help, but I saw that she wouldn't be able to grade you fairly," Alice said with a little wink. "She likes you too much, and, like Edward, she still thinks of you as more fragile than you really are."

"Is that why...he's not here?" Bella asked, looking through the stack again. No Edward. No Esme. No Emmett.

"Yes. He and Esme would be too easy on you, and Emmett's just not a teacher. It's okay, though. We won't be too harsh. Though, keep in mind that Carlisle knows every single book in this library. I'm sure he'll have more to talk to you about than just science. Which reminds me."

Alice moved to a bag on the floor and pulled out a package. It was wrapped beautifully in purple wrapping paper with curled silver ribbon. Bella took the package carefully in her hands. It was heavy - heavier than she expected. "What is this?" she asked cautiously.

"A gift from all of us," Alice said. "But I wasn't supposed to give it to you until you were ready. I think you're just about there."

Bella hesitantly opened the package, lifting a sealed corner instead of tearing the paper away. When the present was revealed, all she could do was stare. "Oh, Alice."

The leather-bound books were eerily familiar looking - they were the same as most of the black-bound journals in the corner of the library. Bella had found after much digging that not all the diaries were Carlisle's. Esme had a few stacked with her husband's, and so did Edward. She had not tried to read any of them since Alice came to the house. It seemed like an invasion of their privacy, and she didn't want that.

"Rosalie says as part of your English class, you're to write in your new journals at least three times a week. She doesn't want to see them ever, so don't worry, you won't be graded." Alice smiled and squeezed her hand. "And everyone agrees you may read whatever you like in the journals here. We have no secrets from our family, and you are family now, Bella."

Bella blinked back tears. She opened the top blank book and rubbed the creamy white page. "They're beautiful, Alice. Thank you so much. Are you sure you can't see me? How is it you seem to know exactly what I need?"

Alice beamed. "Together all of us make pretty good guesses," she said. "Rosalie and Carlisle both told me you'd need some structure soon. That you'd want it. We came up with the idea of the DVD lessons, since you can't go to school right now. Rosalie also insisted on the journals. She says you can draw or write or whatever you want in them. That's why they're blank and not lined. And Emmett and I agreed that you needed some fun in your life, before you settled down again to schoolwork." She winked. "And don't think we're through with the fun just because you've got homework! I don't sleep, remember, so feel free to set whatever schedule you like. But make sure you leave plenty of time in it for fun things, too. We've still got loads of rooms to explore in this place, and recipes we haven't tried, and you haven't  _lived_  until you've dropped a Slinky down a spiral staircase!"

But it was the first day of snow that really changed things.

Bella woke on the air mattress in the library, where she'd been sleeping since Alice's arrival. She did not want to return to the room Edward had put her in, and Alice didn't argue with her. Since Alice didn't fuss, Bella decided not to complain when the air mattress and some new non-antique bedding appeared. She could compromise. While she did not like Alice buying her things, at least the little dark-haired vampire was doing her best to keep Bella's wishes in mind. She didn't insist Bella return to a bedroom, so Bella did not balk at using the new mattress and bedding.

Standing and throwing open the windows, Bella blinked. She knew winter was settling over the countryside, but she had not really expected snow. It didn't snow in Forks much - the rain just got colder. So the sight of the big drifts amazed her. They were beautiful, and they sparkled in the dull reflected light of the clouds.

The sound of pounding feet alerted Bella to Alice's presence before the little vampire burst through the doorway. She was beaming, almost bouncing with delight, as she held out an armful of warm clothes. "Get dressed! Hurry! We have  _got_  to go play in the snow!"

Alice's excitement was infectious, and Bella found herself dressed in layers and layers of clothing within minutes. Alice jammed a wool hat on her head and threw a scarf around her neck, the ends of which she used to pull Bella toward the door.

Bella laughed, hurrying behind the pixie. Happiness filled her. Charlie had never let her play in what little snow Forks got, when she was with him over Christmas break. He said it was foolishness and he wouldn't have her tracking slushy mud all over his house. Needless to say, they never saw snow in Arizona.

Opening the door to the outside, Alice threw herself into a snowdrift. The snow was soft powder, and Bella sank almost knee deep when she stepped into the drift. Alice was only wearing indoor clothes, but she guessed it hardly mattered to a vampire. Bella herself could already feel the cold leeching away her warmth as her breath misted into the air. Once they were done playing, she thought, she'd take a hot bath and then make pancakes and tea. Maybe with some black pudding on the side. She'd become inordinately fond of the stuff over the past month.

"Come on, Bella!" Alice said, motioning her forward. Bella pushed her thoughts aside and waded further into the snow, following the trail of Alice-sized divots as her friend continued to roll and giggle in the drifts.

Alice really was the best sister she could ask for, Bella thought. A sister  _and_  a friend. The perfect combination. She didn't treat Bella as if she was about to break. In fact, she treated her as if they were equals. That was what Bella thought she craved most, after a mother's warmth. And that was the whole issue with Edward, she felt. Not that he had wanted to keep her safe. Not that he wanted to give her things or make her happy. But he never once asked - never once even  _thought_  to ask - what it was she felt about the whole situation. Because he assumed. And he assumed because they really weren't equals.

A snowball tossed in her direction forced Bella out of her troubled thoughts, and she laughed as she tossed one back. It didn't land even remotely close to Alice, but Bella didn't care. This was Alice, her friend, and Alice wouldn't make fun of her for lousy aim.

"Want to make a snowman?" Alice asked, wading up beside her. Bella had to laugh - Alice had powdery snow from her nose to her toes, and since she was probably no warmer than the ambient air temperature it wasn't melting.

They tried to make a snowman, but the snow was too dry and powdery to stick properly. As the air chilled even further, it grew too dry to even throw a proper snowball. The snow just caked Bella's knit gloves and refused to pack.

"Angels, then," Alice said, flinging herself backward into the snow. But the drifts were so deep that both girls absolutely disappeared when they tried to lay down, laughing hysterically, and the attempt to make snow angels had to be abandoned.

Bella laughed as Alice crossed her arms, sitting cross-legged in one of the holes in the snow she'd made while trying to make a snow angel. She looked too funny, trying to devise some more snowy play. Bella herself was shivering now. Her gloves and hat were saturated, and some snow had slipped down the back of her neck under her coat, making her warm underlayers useless. Her boots were waterproof, but her sodden jeans dripped messily inside them, making her feet cold and wet as well. She couldn't feel her ears or her nose, and she thought it might be time to convince Alice to go back inside.

If it were Edward, Bella had no doubt he would already have noticed how cold she was and taken her back in the house to warm up. He might even have run her a bath, or warmed her a blanket in the dryer. But Alice didn't notice, and didn't seem interested in going back inside.

That was okay, Bella told herself. She could handle whatever Alice could handle. Alice thought she was stronger than Edward did. She didn't want to prove her sister wrong.

"I wonder what it would take to build an igloo," Alice mused, tapping one snowy finger against her chin.

"Probably snow that packs," Bella reminded her, willing her teeth not to chatter. "Can't build blocks of snow when you can't even roll snowballs."

"Pity." Alice sighed. She raised her head and looked at the sky. "Does it have to get colder or warmer for stickier snow?"

"Warmer, I think," Bella said, drawing her legs closer to her body as she sat in the snow, in her own little divot. "But I'm an Arizonan, remember. Don't quote me about snow."

"We could assign you a special report about snow," Alice said, giggling. "That's science-y, right?"

Bella laughed, hugging her legs close and trying not to shiver. "Weather? Sure, I guess."

Alice's head popped over the top of Bella's hole in the snow, and she looked so silly, her black hair matted with snow, that Bella had to laugh harder. She relaxed her body, letting go of her legs, and let herself laugh. Laughter was almost as good as shivering - it vibrated her body, and made her feel warm.

"Think that's funny, do you?" Alice asked, a devilish smirk crossing her delicate pixie face. Suddenly, without warning, she launched herself at Bella.

Bella felt no fear. This was her sister, and she didn't think until the impact about how different their bodies really were. It didn't occur to her to be frightened until the air whooshed out of her lungs and she heard a sickening crack. Her left arm immediately went numb.

For a moment all she could do was lie there in the compacted snow as Alice's hard little body scrambled off of her.

"Bella!" Alice shrieked. "Oh, god, Bella!"

Bella gasped, trying to find breath.

"What did I do?" Alice shrieked, hovering but not touching. "Bella, talk to me!"

"Oww..." Bella groaned, trying to sit up. Feeling rushed back to her left arm, but pain immediately followed. She used her right arm to try to clutch where the pain was the worst, somewhere near her shoulder, but through all the layers of clothing it was impossible.

Alice immediately had her in her arms, and they were in the kitchen within three seconds. Bella found herself seated in a chair, her jacket off, and Alice hovering over her with a pair of kitchen shears.

"I need to cut the clothes away," the little pixie said, worry filling her bright gold eyes. "To see what's been damaged. I'm so, so sorry! I didn't even think - "

"I take that as a compliment," Bella said, biting the words out between her teeth. It was the truth...sort of.

Alice carefully cut down the middle of Bella's shirts, then cut from the collar along her arm. As the fabric fell away Bella shivered even more; she was still very cold.

"Oh, Bella..." Alice sighed, shaking her head. "It's your collarbone, I think. It looks all funny. Hold on and let me call Carlisle. Don't move, now."

Bella tried to duck her head down to see what Alice was talking about, but the moment she moved her head pain lanced through her shoulder and she immediately froze. Alice was on the phone, talking too swiftly for her to hear.

"I didn't mean to, Carlisle!" Alice wailed, her words slowing to a more intelligible speed. "It was a spur of the moment decision, and then I heard this awful snap..."

Bella clenched her teeth again. She didn't want to remember that sound; it made her sick to her stomach.

"Okay...okay...a sling? Just a sling? Really? Okay...okay. Just a second."

Alice pulled the phone from her ear and held it out toward Bella. "Try not to move your head too much," she said, "but Carlisle wants to talk to you."

Bella eagerly took the phone. She'd talked to members of the Cullen family several times since Alice arrived, but it was awkward sometimes when they didn't have much to say to each other.

"Bella, sweetheart, how do you feel?" Carlisle's warm, professional voice was laced with concern.

"My left arm went numb," Bella said, trying to be honest. "When feeling returned, it hurt. A lot."

"And now?"

She thought for a moment. "It's okay if I don't move."

"All right. Alice, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," Alice said, hovering close to Bella's seated form.

"Tell me, how does it look? Is the bone out of place, that you can see? Has anything broken the skin?"

"It actually looks mostly fine," Alice said slowly, peering at the affected spot. "There's a little bump, but not enough to look like the bone actually moved."

"It's probably just some swollen tissue, then," Carlisle said, sounding relieved. "Take a picture with your phone and send it to me."

Alice did, and a moment later Carlisle's voice returned, even calmer than before. "Good, good," he said. "Yes, it looks like just some swollen tissue. The fracture is probably a very minor one."

"I'm so sorry, Bella!" Alice said again. "I just didn't think - "

"Well, think now," Carlisle interrupted. "She'll need to keep her left arm in a sling for a while, just as a reminder not to use it. Send me another photo at the end of the week, and we'll see where we go from there. Bella, you can safely double the usual dose of ibuprofen to help with any pain. If you need something stronger, I can overnight it to you."

Bella wrinkled her nose. Strong pain pills made her feel weird, and she didn't like it. "I'll just try the ibuprofen for now," she said quietly. "Thank you, Carlisle."

"Any time, sweetheart." The smile in his voice was apparent. "How are you holding up, besides this little fracture?"

"Good," Bella said, hoping she was telling the truth. "Thank you for the journals. They're beautiful."

"The blank page can be a wonderful friend when you're confused or hurting. I'm glad you like them."

"Will you and Esme be able to visit soon?"

Carlisle's regretful sigh filled the phone. "Not soon, I'm afraid, Bella. We go before a judge next week, and it's his job to decide whether or not there's enough evidence to charge your father formally with child abuse."

"Shouldn't I be there for that?" Bella asked, though she wasn't at all sure she wanted to be.

"For the trial, yes. Your social worker has said that for this preliminary hearing the video will suffice."

"It was very smart of you to take it, then," Bella said quietly.

Carlisle chuckled. "That's what years of experience is for, my dear. Now, don't fret. Just enjoy your time with Alice. We'll bring you home as soon as we're able."

"I know." Bella hesitated. "Is Edward..." She trailed off, not really knowing what it was she wanted to ask.

"He's hunting right now," Carlisle said gently. "But he'd be ecstatic to hear that you asked about him, if I may tell him?"

Bella took a breath. Did she want Edward to know that she thought of him? "You can," she said finally. "How...how is he?"

"Quiet. He misses you deeply. I know he wants a chance to put things right, but Alice thinks it's not yet time. What do you think, sweetheart?"

What  _did_  she think? Bella didn't honestly know. She'd asked herself that question so many times in the past month, and she still didn't have an answer. She missed him. That much was clear. But was she ready to see him again? Rose's words echoed portentously in her ears.  _Don't pretend to forgive what you really don't...he won't be able to withstand anything like this ever again._  Rose had said she would know when she was ready to forgive him and move forward. But would she? Would she really? Bella didn't know.

"I think..." she said slowly, "I think...I might need some more time with my journal first."

"That," Carlisle answered, "is an excellent idea, Bella. I'm proud of you for your insightfulness, for your growth and resilience. Remember that as you continue to work toward an understanding with yourself and with him."

"Thank you," Bella whispered before handing the phone back to Alice. Carlisle's advice was always sound, and she would trust him for now.

But in the days that followed the snowy fiasco, she started wondering if she had bigger problems than just a fractured collarbone and a confused heart. She felt...funny. Strange. While she never quite threw up, food wasn't sitting right in her stomach. Her gut gurgled unhappily, and even the mildest foods sometimes gave her heartburn when she lay down to sleep, something she'd only experienced at one other point during her young life.

 _It feels the same, and yet it doesn't_ , she wrote, scribbling the words hurriedly in her new journal, as if putting them on paper would somehow lessen the worry in her heart.  _If it was true, shouldn't it be the same? Exactly the same? So why is it different?_

She still wasn't able to verbalize the "it" yet. Not to herself, and not to her journal.

Another month passed. It was nearing Christmas now, and Bella was on edge. She wanted to go home. Even Alice couldn't keep the sadness at bay, or the knowledge that was slowly creeping up on Bella, keeping her awake and worrying at night.

The initial hearing had been postponed twice now, and was tentatively rescheduled for after the holidays. Each time she heard of a new date, anxiety built in the pit of Bella's stomach. Why the long wait? Didn't anyone besides the Cullens care that she was just sitting and waiting, her life on hold until someone decided to put her father in prison? Or was he somehow behind it all, playing everyone like puppets in a grand, fucked-up puppet show?

 _I think it's true,_  Bella finally wrote.  _But it shouldn't be possible, should it? I mean, he's dead. Or undead. So why is this happening to me again?_

But even though she could not bring herself to write the words that would make it real, Bella knew. She felt the changes in her body that she remembered from the last time - felt and remembered how scared she'd been, how angry and terrified and alone.

It was Alice who finally pushed the issue.

"Cooking that again?" she asked, wrinkling her nose as Bella sliced rounds off a pudding and tossed them in a waiting frying pan. "I swear, you're addicted to the stuff."

Bella shrugged noncommittally. Lately it seemed to be one of the only things she could eat without feeling sick afterward. Besides, there was plenty of it around. Archie, the town butcher, had insisted on giving her as much as she could eat after she gave him the rest of the old coins she'd offered, but refused to take payment from him. It was on Alice's orders, but the butcher insisted on paying her in some way.

"Do you even know what it is?" Alice pressed.

Bella looked up from her one-handed slicing. Carlisle said she could probably stop wearing the sling in another week, and she was really looking forward to it. "It's some kind of sausage," she said. "Nobody knows what's in sausage. That's the point of it."

"This isn't sausage. It's black pudding, and you clearly don't know what it's made of."

Bella flipped several of the rounds with a pair of kitchen tongs. They sizzled in the pan, and the smell was warm. "I don't really care. My stomach's been off for a while, and this makes it feel better."

"I was afraid of that." Alice's eyes narrowed. "Bella, the main ingredient in black pudding is blood. Congealed blood."

Bella turned her eyes to stare at Alice, but she didn't speak.

Alice finally did. "Why haven't you told anyone that you're pregnant?"


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted material is from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

"Edward?"

"Bella?" He gripped the phone tightly in his hand, and had to physically restrain himself from smashing it to pieces in his grasp. God, that voice. He hadn't forgotten that voice, but to have it so close to him again, so timid and sweet in his ear... He swallowed thickly. Of the handful of people who might call him, this particular one hadn't crossed his mind when he hit the accept button and put his phone to his ear. He'd almost given up hope that she ever would try to contact him, yet here she was. "Bella, sweet girl," he breathed. Excitement washed over him, along with a certain amount of peace. She'd called him. After two months of separation, she'd finally called him. He hoped that meant she was willing to forgive him now, willing to try again.

He heard her soft breath on the other end of the connection. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, so many things he wanted to tell her, wanted to explain and apologize for. But after long talks with Rose and Jasper, he knew this had to progress at her pace. Not his. So, though it was difficult for him, he held his breath and remained silent.

"I..." She swallowed; he heard the gentle sound and could imagine just what her mouth looked like, sweet and full, as she tried to find the words she wanted to say. "I miss you," she said finally.

"Oh, baby, I miss you too." Edward could hardly believe his ears. After two months of no contact, he had steeled himself for the worst.

"I'm sorry," Bella continued, each word dropping hesitantly from her mouth as she sought to voice that which was nearly impossible to speak. "I didn't mean to ignore you for so long. I want you to know that I've thought about you every day - every minute, sometimes. I may not like what you did, but it hurts to be without you."

Edward's heart swelled at those words. They were all he ever wanted to hear. If the Volturi came for him in the next moment, he'd die happy.

"I'm also starting to understand why you did what you did."

"Bella, I - " Edward started, wanting to break in and apologize. Rose and Carlisle and even Esme - his gentle, loving mother - had drilled into him over the past months exactly what he had done wrong. It had taken a while, but he could understand now how Bella must have felt, cut off from everything she knew, dependent upon him for her very survival. When he'd removed her from her father's house for the final time, his only thought had been for her physical safety. He'd wanted her as far away from Charlie as possible. But now he was beginning to understand the problems with his rash decision. It was too much to explain all in one moment, and his head swam with the words that wouldn't quite come out.

"No," Bella said gently, stilling his attempts to apologize. "Let me finish, please."

Edward wanted to argue. He opened his mouth to do it. But then he shut it again just as quickly. Bella's way, he tried to remind himself. Her choice. Her decisions. That was all that mattered now.

"When Alice first came to stay with me, I was so happy." Bella made a soft noise that Edward couldn't decipher. Had it been a laugh or a choked little sob? He didn't know. "She let me make all my own decisions, and she didn't argue with me. I did my best not to argue with her, either - a compromise, you know?" She made another noise, one that he was more sure was a chuckle. "You'd be proud of me. She bought me an air mattress and new bedding, so I could sleep in the library. She's been buying groceries, and cleaning supplies, and I haven't protested once."

 _Good girl_ , Edward thought, though he forced himself to keep quiet. She was beginning to learn how to accept assistance from his family, and it relieved him. But accepting help from Alice was very different than accepting it from him. He was still terribly afraid that he had ruined that for them for good.

"I...Alice makes me feel good." Bella paused, fighting for words. "She doesn't treat me like glass, like I'm liable to break if handled too roughly. And I appreciate that. It makes me feel like more of an equal than I ever did with you."

Guilt washed over Edward. He'd known she didn't always appreciate his hovering, but he hadn't had any idea he was making her feel inadequate. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, forcing himself to continue listening. That wasn't what he had meant at all. He thought girls liked to be treated like princesses, like precious things to be cherished and protected. Apparently with Bella that was not necessarily the case.

"But some things happened that made me start rethinking how I felt." Bella swallowed again. "It took so long because I fought it. I didn't want to accept what was staring me in the face. But the fact is that I'm  _not_  the same as you, no matter how much I wish I was. You and your family are so much stronger than I am. When Alice accidentally broke my collarbone in play, I had to start facing facts. So for that, I wanted to say I'm sorry, Edward. I may not entirely like it, but I'm beginning to understand why you did what you did. To you, I really am fragile. I didn't even think about how it must have felt to you when you rescued me from Charlie's house. After getting hurt by Alice, I can understand your protectiveness a little better."

Edward sighed, feeling a vast amount of tension suddenly leave his body. He felt...almost weightless. And, for the first time in months, he felt happiness begin to bleed through his system. Bella understood. She was capable of doing what he was not, when he stole her away from everything she'd ever known. She had learned to look at the situation from his perspective, and he, in return, was working hard to look at it from hers.

"Bella, baby," he said, his voice quivering with emotion, "I've had a lot of time to think, too. Will you let me apologize, sweet girl? Try to make it up to you?"

He heard her breath hitch. "I'd like that," she said quietly. "But not over the phone. I think we have too much to talk about for that. Will you come back, Edward?" She paused. "It's almost Christmas. I told Alice I didn't want to celebrate the holiday. I always spent Christmas break at Charlie's house and I don't really have any good memories of it. But since you're out of school and the courts will be closed for a while, I was wondering if you would come? All of you, or as many as possible?"

Edward could almost hear her biting her lip, waiting for the answer. Part of him wanted to insist that they have an elaborate Christmas despite what she said. He wanted to erase her bad memories and replace them with new, good ones. But he bit back the words. Bella's choice, he reminded himself. It was up to her. She'd learned to compromise with Alice, and he hoped she would compromise with him, too, once she saw that he was learning to bend. So, no traditional Christmas. But if she wanted her family, by god, she was going to get them.

"I think that can be arranged," Edward said, and he knew the smile that spread over his face was probably ridiculously large. "Sweet girl, what about Mason? If you'd rather Rose and Emmett stay here with him, I'm sure they'd understand."

There was a pause, and he heard Bella's shaky breath. "No," she said finally. "I'm going to have to learn how to be around him if we're ever going to work this out as a family. Rose is my sister as much as Alice, and I miss her."

"Okay, sweetheart," Edward said quietly. "But you tell us if you get too uncomfortable. Please?" He tried to phrase it as a request rather than an order, hoping she would be more amenable if given a choice.

"I'll do my best." Another pause, and Edward could picture perfectly that lip between her teeth. "I'm learning to speak up more, with Alice. It's slow, though. Nobody's ever asked for my opinions before. Nobody ever cared, before you."

The simple, heartfelt way she said that made Edward's heart clench. Was there any wonder he thought of her as fragile, when she said things like that? She wasn't trying to play up his pity, but it was hard not to want to clasp her close in his arms and keep her there when she spoke of her past.

"I'll ask every day from now on, Bella," he promised, since there was still an ocean separating them and he could not touch her. "Every minute, even."

"Will you come, then?" Her voice was so hesitant, so unsure, and Edward yearned to soothe her with his touch.

"As soon as we make the arrangements," he assured her. "We'll be on the first flight we can, baby."

"Good," she said, and the warmth in her tone made an echoing heat feather through Edward's body. "Because I really do miss you."

"I miss you, too," Edward assured her. "We all do." He wanted to mention Esme, and how much she especially ached for her youngest daughter. But the gulf of what had been said and done lay between them, and he couldn't say the words. He had denied Bella Esme's mothering presence when he knew she wanted her. Had denied it even as Bella cried out for her mother figure in her sleep, twisting restlessly in the big antique bed. Somehow - somehow - they had to learn to get past this. But he had faith, now that she had broken the ice and made contact, that they would be able to do it. Together.

After Bella hung up, Edward sat still in his room for a long moment. He rubbed his hands along his messy hair, lost in thought. He was torn - extremely torn. Jasper, Rose, and Esme all said to let Bella lead the way as they fumbled back toward something resembling a relationship. But Edward desperately wanted to do something for her - something to show her how sorry he was for the way he'd acted. Just  _listening_  didn't seem like enough. It wasn't a grand gesture at all. And while he and his family never celebrated much for the holidays, he didn't want the same for Bella. She'd never had a special Christmas, and that seemed so...wrong. But she said no celebrating. Edward didn't know what to do.

He left his room, following his ears to Carlisle's office, where everyone except Jasper was gathered as Mason had his weekly check-up with Carlisle. Emmett had remarked a while ago that he'd never heard of a healthy kid Mason's age getting weekly checkups, but Carlisle insisted it was his right as official grandfather and nobody really minded.

"Er..." Edward swallowed. The moment he'd walked into the office, everyone stared at him. Even Mason was watching him with solemn blue eyes. Edward had never really interacted with the baby - had never held him or talked to him. He didn't even like being in the same room with him. The child's wary curiosity was only natural.

"Edward," Carlisle greeted, his arms protecting the baby from the edges of the desk so he wouldn't fall. His voice was utterly normal, and it calmed Edward slightly.

"Bella leads and Bella decides, right?" Edward asked hesitantly.

Suspicion lit in Rosalie's gold eyes. Though the color was different, the expression was so similar to Mason's that Edward had to bite back a laugh. They might not be related by blood, but Rose and the kid completely deserved each other.

"I know it's hard to keep away from her," Esme said gently, "but it's what's best for now, Edward. She'll come to you when she's ready."

"She has," Edward said, resisting the very human urge to rub his palms on his jeans though they would never sweat again. "She's asked us all to go see her for Christmas, and I couldn't refuse."

The light in Esme's eyes as she clasped her hands in front of her mouth made Edward smile, though it also hurt. He wasn't the only one missing Bella.

"She called you?" Rosalie asked, still slightly suspicious. "What did she say?"

"That's private," Edward snapped.

"Edward." Carlisle's soft admonishment made Edward sigh. He didn't want to share the details of their private conversation with his family, but if they were going to England he supposed they all had a right to know.

"She said she told Alice she didn't want to celebrate the holidays - said she always spent Christmas with Charlie and has no good memories of the season. But she wants to see us, and since schools and courts are closed...I told her yes." He glanced sideways at Rose, who raised a challenging eyebrow. She knew that wasn't all Bella had said. "She misses me," he said, feeling somewhat vindicated even though he'd spoken when he didn't really want to. "She wants to talk with me. I asked her if Rose and Emmett should stay here with Mason, but she said no. She said if we're all going to be a family, she needs to get used to being around him."

"Good girl," Carlisle murmured, picking the baby up and handing him off to Emmett. "That's a big step. I'm so glad she's willing to try."

"Carlisle, we're going, right?" Esme twisted her fingers tightly together, looking just about as anxious as Edward had ever seen her. "We can't possibly refuse when she's asking for us. Edward's right - schools and courts are closed for the holiday. Can't we tell Heidi we're going to visit relatives, and we'll be back after the new year?"

Carlisle smiled broadly. "Of course, my dear. What makes you think we wouldn't?"

Edward stifled the sudden ache in his chest. He had refused Bella many a time - refused to let her have contact with the family members she so desperately wanted. But no more. He'd never do anything like that again, now that he'd seen the consequences of his actions.

"Are we really going to see Bella for Christmas without...well, Christmas?" Emmett asked, a frown slinking along his brow. "I mean, it seems kind of wrong."

Edward could have kissed his brother right about then.

"Yes," Rosalie said firmly, "we are. If she said she doesn't want Christmas, then she doesn't have to have one."

"Well, what about our little dude? It's his first Christmas. Shouldn't he get one?"

"We can celebrate with him when we get back." Rose caught Mason's small hand and pretended to nibble on his fingers, which always made him squeal happily. "He's seven months old, Em. The date really doesn't matter to him."

"I'll get the first tickets I can," Carlisle said, drawing his laptop close. "Why doesn't everyone start packing? Where's Jasper?"

"Here," Jasper said, smiling broadly from the doorway. "Seeing Alice again will make this a very happy Christmas."

"I bet," Emmett snickered, but Edward held his peace rather than adding to the teasing. He knew exactly what Jasper was going through. Two months without their mates was absolutely agonizing, and they were both more than ready to get back to their girls.

* * *

"Did you tell him?" Alice demanded.

Bella flinched. "It's not the sort of thing you say over the phone," she mumbled.

"You're stalling, Bella."

Bella turned away, wanting the peace of her library. "It's not like he won't know the minute he sees me," she protested.

"Is that really how you want him to find out? By hearing that little flutter of a heartbeat?"

"I don't know!" Bella snapped, walking quicker toward her safe haven. She and Alice had worked out an agreement weeks ago that the library was sacrosanct. No squabbling could be done in there. When Bella wanted to be alone with her studies or her thoughts, all she had to do was step into the library and Alice would respect her wishes. She desperately wanted to be there now. It wasn't that she thought Alice's questions were ridiculous - she just didn't have the answers for them yet.

"Bella, you can't walk away from this!" Alice called after her, but she did not follow Bella down the hall.

Bella entered her library and closed the door quietly behind her. She chewed hard on her lower lip as she dragged a chair into the weak winter sunlight and curled the wrong way in it, tossing her legs over the chair's arm. She really didn't know what to do - what she wanted, what she needed.

She was ten weeks' pregnant now, give or take a day. She smiled bitterly, no happiness or humor at all in the gesture. It was so terrifyingly like the last time this had happened to her. Just like last time, there was a two-day time frame in which conception could have occurred. Just like last time, she felt very, very alone.

Edward had not hurt her. He hadn't forced her into anything - quite the opposite, in fact.  _She_  had forced  _him_. Even after two months, the thought filled her with pain. Last time she suspected a pregnancy, her feelings had been very clear. She'd wanted no part in it whatsoever. She wasn't ready to be a mother, and she didn't want the constant reminder of that week in Seattle and the excruciating physical and emotional pain. But now?

Now, she just didn't know.

She was still too young, too inexperienced. Bella knew that. She wasn't stupid, and she was fully aware that she had no business attempting to raise a child. By herself, anyway.

But Alice kept repeating to her, over and over, that she wasn't alone anymore. She had an entire family ready and willing to help her with anything she needed. It was a difficult concept to grasp, but Bella felt that she was starting to take baby steps in that direction. One of those steps was admitting that, if she chose to see this through, the Cullens would no doubt help her. They would be there for her in any way they could.

The question was, did she want to? Was that really what she wanted?

Bella really didn't know.

Mason was an innocent, but nonetheless he was a symbol of some of the terrible things that had been done to her. He was the biological son of a man she didn't know - a stranger she hated violently and wished nothing but ill. She thought she might possibly be capable of living in the same house as him - this holiday season was to be a test of that. If things didn't go well, the house was big enough that Rose and Emmett could keep him out of sight. But even if she learned to tolerate his presence in her life, she knew deep in her heart she could never be his mother. That was why she had given him to Rose. Rose wanted a baby desperately, and Bella had one that needed a home and love she just couldn't give. No amount of therapy could ever turn them into a functioning mother-child unit. Bella accepted this. She was happy that Rosalie and Emmett were able to give Mason the love she could not, and she didn't begrudge them their son. She didn't know if they ever worried, but she'd never ask for him back. She made her decision a long time ago.

But everything with Mason had been so clear-cut. Every emotion had been bad, every memory full of pain and fear. But no matter how frustrated she was with Edward, no matter how much trust had been broken when he drugged and kidnapped her, she didn't hate him. She loved him. Anger would fade, assuming they were able to work past it. Love would not. She loved Edward, and this new baby was a piece of him. His body had given and hers had received. This pregnancy had not begun in rape.

But it had not begun in happiness, either. Bella remembered that all too well. Guilt washed over her as she played absently with the edge of one of her journals, pulling the heavy hard-bound book into her lap. She had coerced Edward - had clung to him and cried and begged until he gave in. Alice swore that he bore her no malice, but that didn't stop the way she felt. She loathed herself for what she felt she'd done to him. She loved him and needed him - had needed him desperately, those two nights she held to him, begging him to chase away the fear and utter loneliness. But she hadn't forgiven him. Behind the need, she'd still been angry and deeply hurt. The pain didn't go away just because her need overpowered it, and she had not been able to set it aside in the morning when she woke.

If she had been able to choose, had been able to wave a magic wand over her life, Bella suspected this second pregnancy would never have happened. Edward was dead - or undead, or whatever - and she hadn't even considered it a possibility. But hindsight was 20/20, and she had to live now with the consequences of her decision to sleep with him, regardless of her reasons.

The question was, what would she do now? Alice said that Edward had made great strides in understanding why she was so upset with him, and Bella hoped that was true. She wanted desperately to see him again, to be able to talk to him about...everything. About their relationship. About where they were supposed to go from here. About the future. But it all centered around them being able to forgive both themselves and each other. Bella knew she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if he couldn't forgive her, and she wouldn't be able to forgive him if he hadn't realized that his actions were wrong. Well-meaning, but wrong.

And if they couldn't forgive each other, what then? Bella was secure enough to know the rest of the Cullens would not abandon her. But would she want this baby without Edward? It was a troubling thought. Even with Edward, she didn't know if she wanted it.

And what would he think? Would he welcome this news, or damn it? Bella had no idea. After receiving permission, she'd eagerly delved into Edward's journals. It was fascinating, learning more about the person she'd so quickly fallen in love with. But they didn't help her with his probable reaction at all. There was no mention of fatherhood, whether positive or negative. The only possible clue Bella got from the journals was something she already suspected. Edward disliked being a vampire. He felt that he was a monster. He would not have rather died in 1918 - as Rosalie would rather have died - but he did loathe that which made him inhuman. The fetus within Bella was part Edward, which meant it was part human and part vampire. Bella was unafraid, but she doubted if Edward would feel the same. His feelings about what he was also didn't bode well for Bella ever becoming like him, should the discussion ever arise.

Bella continued to chew on her lip, running her fingers over the spine of her journal. For the first time since she'd received the blank books, she did not feel like writing in them. Writing out her thoughts and feelings had helped her immensely, but she didn't think it would be of any use now. She wasn't lacking words for her feelings. She just didn't know what path to choose. Should she make a decision now, before Edward and the rest of his family arrived? Would it be easier on him if she didn't leave him a choice? Or would he be angry with her, assuming she was doing the same thing to him that he had done to her - making a vital decision without giving the other party a say.

Unable to sit still any longer, Bella heaved herself out of the chair and climbed the spiral iron staircase to the upper level. She often found peace here, her head tilted at an odd angle as she read titles. It was almost like meditating as her eyes skimmed over words almost without her brain's involvement at all. The musty vanilla scent of old paper soothed her, and she took a deep, calming breath as she stepped along an aisle of fiction. Carlisle wasn't much for contemporary fiction and there wasn't a lot of it in the library. Bella  _had_  found a chunk of tattered romance paperbacks stuffed haphazardly into a shadowy corner up here, and had assumed they were Alice's until she opened one. The whiff of perfume was unmistakeable - only Rosalie wore that particular scent.

The thought of fierce Rose settling down with a romance novel made Bella smile, and she didn't even see the book sticking off a shelf at an odd angle until her shoulder rammed into it. Wincing, she rubbed the spot she knew would be a bruise by tomorrow and went to push the book all the way back. Just as her hand touched the hard spine, she paused. Had Alice been in here? Bella could have sworn she'd dusted all these shelves and put everything to rights in the library ages ago. Why had Alice left a book jutting out like that?

Biting her lip, Bella pulled the book off the shelf. It was a hardcover copy of something called  _The Last Unicorn_. There was a pink Post-It note stuck in like a bookmark and, curious, Bella opened to the correct page.

Someone had highlighted sections of text. Bella vaguely knew that some people - college students especially - were fond of marking up books with highlighter and notes, but she herself considered it almost sacrilege. Still, she found herself reading the highlighted text, puzzling over the words.

_"Fool, be still!" The witch's own voice was fierce with fear. "I can turn her into wind if she escapes, or into snow, or into seven notes of music. But I choose to keep her. No other witch in the world holds a harpy captive, and none ever will. I would keep her if I could do it only by feeding her a piece of your liver every day."_

_"Oh, that's nice," Rukh said. He sidled away from her. "What if she only wanted your liver?" he demanded. "What would you do then?"_

_"Feed her yours anyway," Mommy Fortuna said. "She wouldn't know the difference. Harpies aren't bright."_

_"Speaking of livers," the unicorn said. "Real magic can never be made by offering up someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back. The true witches know that."_

Bella bit her lip. She tucked the book close against her chest, leaned back on a sturdy bookshelf, and took a deep, shuddering breath. She didn't know the book, but she knew exactly what Alice was trying to tell her. It wasn't about unicorns or witches or magic, not really. It was about putting something of yourself out in the world - about offering, and trust, and sacrifice. She knew in that moment that she couldn't possibly make this decision without Edward, no matter how much easier that path might be. It really would be the same thing he'd done to her, and she couldn't stand making anyone else feel as helpless as she'd felt those first weeks here at Ellison House. She didn't want to get even with him; it wasn't in her nature to be vindictive. She wanted peace - something she'd had very little of in her life.

But it wouldn't be easy. It meant difficult conversations, and tears, and opening herself up to the possibility of rejection and heartbreak.

Slowly the library door opened, and from above Bella saw Alice's dark head creep hesitantly into the room.

"I'm not here to argue with you," Alice said quietly, peering up at her. She held up her hands, palms forward, in a gesture of peace. "I just wanted to say - you'll get it back, Bella. Please don't worry about that."

"My liver?" Bella lifted one corner of her mouth, though she didn't feel much like smiling.

"You," Alice said dryly, "are utterly incapable of grasping metaphor. And Rosalie was so proud of your English skills! Not your liver, you goose. Your heart."

Bella dropped one hand to rest on the railing keeping her from tumbling into the lower floor of the library. "It hurts, Alice. I'm so confused."

"I know, hon. I know."

"There are so many ways this could end badly."

"Or beautifully. There's no one right way to have a happy ending, Bella. This could turn out to be just another bump in the road...or it could be the best thing that ever happened to you." She quirked a gentle smile. "Who's your best friend?"

"You are," Bella said quickly, with no reservations.

"Have I ever steered you wrong before?"

Bella smiled. "No, Alice."

"Then try to have a little faith - for my sake, if not yours. Or Edward's sake, if not mine."

Bella closed her eyes. Faith. It wasn't something she was used to having. But for Alice's sake, and Edward's, she would try.

* * *

Carlisle paused just outside the door of the rental car, gazing at the forbidding edifice of his ancestral home. He hadn't been back to this area in decades, and hadn't been inside the house since...since Edward was a newborn, actually. He smiled as he felt Esme take his arm. It was a sweet gesture, and he appreciated it. He hadn't told anyone but her, but coming back to this place was unnerving to him. He had so many bad memories here - watery memories of his human life, and then his tragic attempt to reunite with his father. He'd brought Edward here for lack of any better option; at the time there had been just the one small village, too far away to scent, and plenty of parkland in which to hunt. It was an ideal place for a newborn vampire to get his bearings. But the memories had been too much, and they had left as soon as Edward felt he was capable of withstanding the scent of human blood.

Now his entire family would be residing here, in Ellison House, for a while. Carlisle didn't begrudge them the house, but he didn't know how this reunion would progress and he had to admit that he was nervous. Edward and Bella hadn't seen each other in over two months now, and they had not parted on happy terms. Alice said Bella was making great strides in the healing process, and that she was really coming out of her shell. Carlisle couldn't be more pleased, but he was anxious to see for himself.

He was also very nervous about how Bella would react to Mason, and by extension Emmett and Rosalie as well. He'd reserved a holiday cottage several towns over just in case Bella had misjudged her tolerance level for Mason's presence, and both Emmett and Rose assured him that they were perfectly happy to head over there at any point, should Bella become uncomfortable.

But that, thankfully, could be put off for another few hours. Due to the holiday rush, Carlisle had been unable to secure enough seats for the whole family on one flight. Though Edward looked absolutely miserable, he had insisted that Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper go ahead, and he would travel on the later flight with Rose, Emmett, and Mason. He claimed that it wasn't fair to make Jasper wait to reunite with Alice, and that Bella would want Esme as soon as possible. It was a sacrifice, and one Carlisle doubted Edward would have been willing to make just a short while earlier. Something about this time away from Bella had made him think - and Carlisle strongly doubted that Rosalie's scolding had any effect whatsoever. No, it was something else. Something about being alone, being parted from his soulmate, had softened the harsh, implacable steel that was Edward. That was what Carlisle had originally meant about bending, and he didn't know if Edward ever really understood his words. But it didn't matter now. What mattered was that he was finding his own way through this mess - finding his way to a place where he and Bella could hopefully communicate effectively and clear up the tension.

"Are you ready?" Esme asked softly as Jasper quietly flanked Carlisle's other side. "We can wait here a minute."

Carlisle squeezed her hand. "Alice will have heard us, if they weren't at the window watching for the car."

At that moment the front doors burst open, and a little black-haired pixie flew at vampire speed toward them. Jasper just had time to brace before she hurled herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him like a backwards coat. Then her lips were on him, peppering his face with kisses as she tried to talk and laugh at the same time.

Carlisle chuckled, the tension of the moment released by Alice's appearance. "Shall we give them some time?" he asked, and Esme nodded. He knew how anxious she was to see Bella again, and he was, too. But he let Esme lead the way across the gravel courtyard and up the stone steps to the doorway, where a pale young human hung back, her lower lip caught by her upper teeth.

"Bella!" Esme said. She ran the last few steps, sweeping the girl up in her arms, and Carlisle smiled widely as he watched Bella bury her face against his wife's neck, her hands clutching so hard that her knuckles turned white. "Bella, honey, I missed you so much!"

"Esme," Bella whispered, her voice tight with emotion. Carlisle smelled salt and knew she was crying.

It was impossible to judge her overall physical health while while she was wrapped around Esme so tightly, her heart beating rapidly as she cried. She smelled...a little strange. Not quite as he remembered. But she'd been injured and malnourished, and Carlisle was willing to blame a small shift in scent on her improved health. Certainly she was still very pale, though her hair was shinier and she looked like she had gained a little weight - weight she definitely needed. There was a touch of softness to her elbows and wrists now, where before there had only been jutting angles of bone.

"Oh, Bella," Esme said, refusing to let go. "Let's get you inside, baby girl. It's cold out here." She lowered her arms a little and lifted upward, raising Bella off her feet. Bella giggled as they walked awkwardly over the doorstep and back into the house. Carlisle chuckled as he followed and shut the door behind him.

Underneath the smell of floor polish and whatever Bella had been cooking before they arrived, the scent of the old house was exactly the same. He breathed it in wonderingly. How strange that a smell could bring back so many memories, regardless of the years. The smell of the old wood and stone reminded him of his parents and his grandfather, people he rarely thought of.

And now  _he_  was a grandfather, Carlisle thought, smiling a little. Bella had given his family a child - little Mason - and Carlisle was a grandfather. It was something he'd never thought would happen, not after becoming a vampire.

Esme set Bella down, allowing her to walk. They settled onto some couches haphazardly strewn across the grand entrance hall, and Esme pulled a very willing Bella into her side.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you!" Esme stroked her cheek. "You're still so pale, honey. Next time someone in the family kidnaps you, we'll make sure it's somewhere you can get some sun."

Bella nestled into Esme's mothering arms. "I missed you," she whispered, her cheeks still wet. "You have no idea - " It looked like she wanted to say more, but she coughed a little and then shook her head, burying her face against Esme again.

"Shh, baby, it's okay. I'm here now." Esme glanced up at Carlisle, and he knew perfectly well what that look meant. Now that she had Bella back, she wasn't leaving without her. Carlisle had rather suspected that would happen. Between Esme and Edward, he'd assumed someone would put their foot down and refuse to be parted from her again.

Now that his human daughter was slowly calming down, Carlisle looked her over with his physician's eye. Yes, she had gained a little weight, but not much. She could easily stand to put another ten pounds on, but he wasn't going to quibble about that. Her skin was still pale but Esme was right - Bella _had_  been cooped up in one of the rainiest countries in the world for several months now. There really had been little chance for her to get any sun. He'd have to make sure she had plenty of vitamin D in her diet to offset the lack of sunshine.

Her pulse was steady and her lungs clear, and her arm - now free of its sling - did not seem to be giving her any trouble. But as Carlisle listened with his keen vampire ears, he heard something...odd. At first he feared he might be hearing a heart murmur - a shadowy sound behind the rhythmic beat. But that wasn't it. A murmur sounded like just that - a shadow. This was different. It was a soft fluttering sound, very quiet but constant, and it was coming from Bella.

"Where's everyone else?" Bella asked hesitantly, finally bringing her head away from Esme's shoulder. She rubbed her wet cheeks with her long sleeves and sniffed a little.

"Jasper and Alice are having a private reunion," Carlisle said, smiling warmly at her. "I'm sure they'll be along. The others were stuck on a later flight; they'll be here in six hours or so."

Esme touched Bella's cheek softly. "Edward was very kind. He said he wanted you and I to have a chance to talk first."

Bella's lower lip quivered, and she buried herself in Esme's arms again.

"Oh, Bella." Esme pressed a kiss to the dark waterfall of her hair. "Please don't fret. He's nearly jumping out of his skin, he's so anxious to see you."

"I miss him," Bella admitted, sniffling again.

That was reassuring, at least. Carlisle frowned, listening to the fluttering little sound inside Bella. If he didn't know any better, it almost sounded like -

He froze. Edward had admitted being intimate with Bella, and that was over two months ago. That would give enough time for a tiny fetal heart to form. But it wasn't possible...was it? Could Edward possibly have...? Carlisle shook his head. It was impossible. Everyone knew that. Vampires reproduced through biting, not sex.

But what else could that sound possibly be?

"Bella," Carlisle said, dropping the subject for the moment. "Why don't you tell me about this interesting arrangement of furniture?"

Bella blushed, flashing a watery smile as she settled more comfortably in Esme's arms. "Alice said the house needed an art studio," she said quietly. "But there was nowhere to put the furniture from the room she cleared out."

Carlisle was glad to hear his wife's smooth laugh. He watched her smile brightly as she brushed back Bella's hair. "Leave it to Alice," she said. "But while we're here, I'm going to show you some tricks of the trade, baby girl. Just as no Cullen walks around underdressed, so too no Cullen house has furniture arranged like this."

Bella smiled. "I'd like that."

Besides the soft, worrying sound that Carlisle could not explain, Bella seemed much better than she had the last time Carlisle saw her. He had to admit that much. Though her reunion with Esme was teary and she didn't seem to want to let her go, Bella was both talking and smiling much more than Carlisle recalled. He suspected that part of the magic cure had been Alice and part of it had just been time.

Speaking of Alice... Carlisle wanted to talk with her as soon as possible, to see if she had noticed the strange fluttering sound or anything else unusual.

"D-do you want to see the rooms Alice and I prepared for you?" Bella was asking hesitantly. Her cheeks turned pink -  _that_  Carlisle remembered well. "I mean, you don't have to...Alice said it was okay...but - "

"We'd love to," Esme said firmly, stroking Bella's hair again. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We haven't ever lived here; this house has just sat around for ages. There's absolutely no right or wrong to room choices."

Bella seemed to relax a little more. "Can I help you with your bags?"

"You can keep us company while we fetch them. How's that for a compromise?"

Bella bit her lip, but finally nodded. Carlisle smiled. It seemed that Edward wasn't the only one practicing how to bend. While he'd rather see Bella sticking up for herself and pushing a little more, he wasn't going to argue. Not if both of them compromising meant reconciliation for her and Edward.

As they walked back outside, Bella and Esme firmly holding hands, Carlisle murmured softly to his wife in a voice the human girl could not hear. "I want to find Alice," he said. "And ask her some questions. It should only take a few minutes."

"We'll be fine settling into the room and having some girl talk," Esme replied. She squeezed his shoulder.

"Bella," Carlisle said, "I haven't had a chance to greet Alice yet, so I'm going to drag her away from her husband for a moment. But I wanted to say how happy I am to see you looking so well."

Bella blushed again and smiled. Carlisle touched her shoulder gently before veering away from their trajectory, following the sound of Alice's animated chatter. From the sound of it, he wasn't interrupting anything too intimate.

They were around the side of the house, sitting on a stone bench, Alice firmly held in Jasper's lap. The expression on Jasper's normally serious face was blissful as he listened to his mate's rapid chatter. They really were quite the opposites, Carlisle thought as he rounded the corner and spied them. But it worked well for them - a listener and a talker. Two of a kind just wasn't going to end well in those circumstances.

"Carlisle!" Alice said happily, hopping off Jasper's lap. "I know what you're going to ask me!"

"Of course you do." Carlisle smiled. How had they managed to live without their all-knowing Alice for months?

"I don't," Jasper said, waving his hand as if reminding them that he was still there. "Mind cluing me in?"

"Carlisle wants to know what's up with Bella."

"Regarding?"

Carlisle sighed, his worry returning. "There's a strange, fluttery noise coming from her. Rapid, constant, quiet. At first I thought it was a heart murmur, but it doesn't sound right. I wanted to ask Alice if she'd noticed it, or anything else of note."

"I already know what it is," Alice said, grinning like the Cheshire cat she was. "But I'll give you a clue so you can puzzle it out for yourselves." She beckoned the two men inside, and they followed her into the kitchen. She opened the door to a walk-in refrigerator, and brought out a strange oblong sausage-shaped thing.

"She  _will_  eat other things if I prompt her, but this is really what she'd rather have if given the choice. The butcher in town gave her absolute buckets of the stuff. Care to guess what it is?"

Jasper sniffed hesitantly. "It actually smells kind of edible."

"It's black pudding," Carlisle said, feeling grim. "And it's very possible you might be able to swallow some. The main ingredient is blood."

Jasper's bright golden eyes were still confused as he looked between his father and wife, waiting for an answer. "So she's eating weird British food. What's the catch?"

Carlisle sighed. This clinched it. The fluttering sound he heard had to be a fetal heartbeat, and it was clearly already doing things to Bella - altering her in ways Carlisle couldn't predict. He wanted to feel excited - elated, even - for Bella and Edward, but instead worry settled heavily on his unbeating heart. There was no telling exactly what was growing inside Bella. It had a heartbeat, but it was already craving blood. "How far along is she, Alice?"

Jasper froze, his eyes growing wide.

"Ten weeks," Alice said easily. "Either the day Edward left, or the day before."

Even through his worry, Carlisle raised an eyebrow.

Alice shrugged. "We're sisters. We share things."

"Does Edward know?" Carlisle asked, though he severely doubted it. He believed his son would come to him with something this huge instead of hiding it.

As he suspected, Alice shook her head. "I wanted Bella to tell him when she called, but she said this wasn't the sort of thing you tell over the phone and she's probably right."

"This is serious, Alice. The fetus is already doing something to her. She smells different, too."

"I thought so," Alice said, nodding a little. "But I've been with her every day, you know, and it's harder to catch gradual changes like that."

"How does she feel about it?"

"Conflicted." Alice hesitated, worry crossing her delicate face for the first time. "I think she's a little calmer than she was. When I first made her admit it, she almost had another panic attack." Alice shuddered a little, but then steeled herself. "I think this was meant to be. Carlisle, you weren't there, but Jasper, do you remember the first morning that Bella was with us? Edward asked me if I'd seen anything that would help us decide how much to tell her about our secret. I said that I couldn't see Bella very well - which is still true. But sometimes I thought I saw a vision of her as one of us, and sometimes I saw a vision of her holding a dark-haired baby." Alice was getting excited again, Carlisle could tell. Her eyes glittered, and she was starting to fidget as she talked. "I assumed I was seeing visions of alternate realities - the results of a choice that had yet to be made. But now I'm not so sure. I think I was seeing this baby, Carlisle. And I still think Bella will be one of us, regardless of what Edward says."

"Mason has dark hair," Jasper said gently.

"I thought of that, too." Alice bit her lip. Carlisle had to smile despite the subject matter. Alice had clearly been picking up habits from her human sister. "But there are two problems with that theory. Bella has never held Mason, and I don't know if she ever will. Plus, the baby in my vision was a lot smaller than Mason was when he came to us, and I'm sure he's bigger now. I don't see the past, I see the future. The baby in my vision couldn't possibly be him."

"I know Bella probably wants to tell him for herself, but he's going to hear it in all our heads the minute he gets in the house," Jasper said quietly.

"Maybe he'll be so happy to see her, he won't pay attention to anyone else?"

It was a possibility, but Carlisle rather thought Alice was grasping at straws. The truth was that Bella was pregnant, and Edward was going to find out very soon. He only hoped this wouldn't set them back too far as they tried to work out their differences.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning for this chapter.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

"So, honey, I want to know the truth - how are you holding up?" Esme sat on the edge of the bed in the room prepared for her and Carlisle and pulled Bella down beside her. "I know we've spoken on the phone here and there, but it's so difficult with a continent between us." She squeezed the human girl's hand and smiled gently. To her eyes, Bella looked...different. Not worse than she had before, but not necessarily better either. But the big, soft brown eyes were the same, and Esme was overjoyed to see them. She'd missed the girl sorely, both for herself and for Edward. Those two weren't meant to be apart like this, and it wasn't good for them. She understood that they both needed to take the time to really think about what they needed and wanted from each other. But it didn't make the separation any easier, knowing that.

Bella bit her lip and squeezed Esme's hand a little harder. "I'm afraid," she admitted.

"Reasonable, all things considered. Have the journals helped at all?"

"With some things. They don't take the fear away, but they help me understand what I'm afraid of."

"You don't have to, baby, but I'm here to listen if you'd like to share."

Bella's eyes were damp as she attempted a tremulous smile. "You have no idea how much I wanted you the past few months," she whispered. "Especially at first, when I was alone with Edward. I was so scared and angry, and I didn't know what to think. I hurt so much, but I also felt like I had no right to feel the way I felt. I kept wishing and wishing for you and Rose to come. I knew you couldn't take the pain away, but I was sure you'd be able to explain things in a way that helped." Her lower lip quivered and she ducked her head quickly, brushing at her eyes.

"Oh, honey." Esme sighed and pulled Bella close again. She felt like crying herself, but her eyes remained dry as always. "I know I'm not your mother, baby, but I'd very much like you to be able to think of me as one. I could never take Renee's place, but I'm here for whatever you need."

Bella sniffled. "Renee?" She sounded surprised that Esme would even bring the name up. "She's nothing like you. I've never had a mom I could depend on." She paused, fidgeting a little and twisting her fingers in her lap. "I think maybe that's part of the reason I didn't think I could come back, after I left Mason with you."

"What reason is that, Bella?" Esme asked, smoothing her hands through the sleek, dark fall of the girl's hair. "We were so worried when you left and didn't return."

"I know - Alice told me. And I'm sorry, I really am. You have to know I didn't want to go back to Charlie. I knew it would...be bad." She swallowed hard. "But he called me, and said he'd take Mason in my place if I didn't return. I couldn't let that happen."

"I still don't understand why you didn't think you could return to us once he was safe, though," Esme said. That part still troubled her deeply. Why had Bella not trusted them to keep her safe? Why had she returned to the father - and the punishment - she had to know was waiting?

"I didn't want to go back to him," Bella whispered. "I'm not a masochist. I hate what he does to me."

"Then why, baby? Help us understand."

Bella dropped her head. "I thought you wouldn't want me."

"Honey - "

"Wait." Bella put her hand on Esme's arm, stilling her. "Please, let me explain?"

Esme stilled instantly. "Of course."

Bella took a shuddering breath. "It's...I just...I know now that it was stupid, and I'm sorry. Spending time with Alice has helped so much. I understand better what family means to you all, and that you consider me part of yours. But I didn't know that back then, and I think there wasn't anything you could have done to convince me. I think I needed time to work it out for myself."

"So you left because you thought we didn't want you?" Esme had to bite back the words she wanted to say, the ones telling Bella that she was absurd for thinking such a thing. They were useless sentiments now; Bella clearly understood how foolish she had been. Reinforcing it would do nothing.

Bella nodded quietly, and she raised pleading eyes to Esme. "Please don't be mad at me. Please. I should have trusted you more - thought better of you. It's just that I've never had anyone I could put faith in before. Not even myself. I was such a bother to you, and I assumed that once you knew about Mason you'd think I was more trouble than I was worth." She swallowed again, and a single tear tracked its slow way down her cheek. "I know now - or I'm learning, anyway - that family doesn't work that way. But it doesn't change what I did then, and I'm sorry, Esme. So sorry."

"Shh, sweetheart." Esme pulled Bella firmly into her arms, holding her tightly. Now that she had explained her actions, they made perfect sense. Of course the child would think this last revelation of Mason's existence would push the Cullens over the edge. Of course she'd assume they wouldn't want her anymore. She'd only done what made sense in such a situation - she'd circumvented the possibility of being cast away by kicking herself out before they had the chance. In her mind, she was saving both herself and the Cullens the trouble of a confrontation.

Esme felt her heart swell as she held Bella's unprotesting body, stroking her back gently. The lesson had not been an easy one, but it seemed that Alice had worked magic over here where Edward could not. Bella had begun the long path toward healing and really trusting again.

Oh, she'd trusted them almost from the beginning, but not like this. She'd obeyed them passively: when they told her to rest, she rested. When they told her to eat, she ate. She answered their questions when they asked her about Charlie and Renee. Esme had no doubt she'd just as soon have become their family servant, so grateful was she to be away from the constant pain of life with Charlie. The impetus to obey would have come from the same source. It  _was_  trust - Esme couldn't say it wasn't. But Bella was now learning trust of a whole new magnitude. She was beginning to understand that she could say no, could argue with them, and they would still love her. She was learning that they loved her for the person she was - the whole person, past, present, and future. Good and bad, right and wrong. That was what family was for. Small children understood that they could throw temper tantrums and their parents would still love them afterward. But Bella never had the chance to learn love like that, and it was new to her. No wonder she ran, Esme thought. No wonder she'd assumed they wouldn't want her.

"You've done a lot of growing up since I saw you last," she whispered into Bella's soft hair. "And I am so, so proud of you, baby girl. You have no idea, Bella. Maybe you don't need me to say it, but I will anyway. You're ours now, and we'll always want you. We'll always love you."

Bella took a deep breath, and Esme felt her body stiffen a little in her arms. "I know," she said, her voice shaky. "Or, at least, I'm getting there." She swallowed. "I'm hoping it's all true, because, Esme, I have a problem and I need your help."

"Anything, Bella. You know that."

"Esme, I didn't think it was possible. You have to understand I didn't do it on purpose."

Esme recognized frightened rambling when she heard it, and she put a hand on Bella's warm cheek. "Hush, honey. It's okay. Whatever it is, we'll get through it together." She rubbed her thumb across the soft skin, tracing the damp tracks of tears. "Would it help you to write it down?"

Bella shook her head and sat up a little straighter. "Alice said she could hear it better when she was touching. Something about the vibrations." She took Esme's hand from her cheek and placed it against her abdomen, just under the hem of her shirt.

At first Esme felt only confusion. She could hear the beat of Bella's heart just fine without touching her, so what had Alice meant? She unfocused her eyes, searching with her other senses.

Bella smelled...not bad, but not quite as she remembered. She'd originally chalked it up to memory's fickle dance, but now she took more careful note. And then suddenly she felt it. A flicker, a ruffle, like a tiny bird. It was a steady, soft, feathery sound, and Esme caught her breath.

"Edward doesn't know," Bella whispered. "Alice wanted me to tell him over the phone, but I just couldn't find the words. I didn't think it was possible, Esme! I didn't do it on purpose; you have to believe me."

"Oh, sweetheart." Esme pulled her close again. "Of course I believe you, Bella. How could you know? How could either of you possibly know?" Now that she knew what she was listening for, she both heard and felt the soft, rapid sound thrumming through Bella's body. Her own heart would be in her throat if it still beat. Mason was surprise and gift enough, but this was beyond her wildest dreams - another baby, this one biological. It blew her mind.

But her joy was tempered by reality, and she firmly pushed the happiness down to a manageable level. She had no idea what Bella thought or felt about this new development, and she had to admit that it was a troubling one. She had not wanted her first child, and now she was pregnant with a second. What would this mean for her fragile psyche, just now slowly learning to trust and love?

But first things first - Bella's physical health had to be ascertained. "Does Carlisle know?"

Bella shrugged. "He probably does now, if he talked to Alice. She promised not to say anything over the phone, but that all bets were off once you arrived."

Esme shook her head inwardly. She knew how thrilled her excitable daughter must be to share this news with the rest of the family, but it was really Bella's to tell. "He should really take a look, sweetheart, and make sure you're healthy."

Bella did not look altogether happy, but she nodded her acceptance.

"What is it, Bella? Talk to me, honey. Tell me what it is you're feeling."

Bella bit her lip, worrying the soft flesh between her teeth. "I don't know where to start."

It was an understandable reaction, but Esme pushed her a little farther. She'd likely been thinking of nothing else since she realized she was pregnant, and she had to have formed some thoughts by now. "Start anywhere," she urged. "It doesn't matter where."

"Edward - "

"No." Esme stopped her. "I'm sorry, Bella. Not there. Please don't worry about Edward's reaction right now. Before you think about that, you need to square with yourself. This is your body, Bella, and your future."

"Edward is my future," Bella argued quietly. "That is, if he still wants me."

"He still wants you, baby girl, and I can guarantee you that this development isn't going to change that. Now, honey, don't be afraid. Tell me what you think."

Bella shrugged. "I don't know," she said, wrapping a curl around her index finger and tugging. "I don't know what to think, what to feel. I'm terrified because I don't know what Edward will think, but not just because of that."

"What else frightens you?"

"I'm not ready to be a mother, Esme. I'm just not. I trust that you won't abandon me if I choose to go through with this, but that doesn't mean I'd be any good as a mother. Then there's Mason to consider. I can never be his mom, no matter how old or mature I get. I just can't do it, and I know that. How unfair is it to him, then, having another baby? How awful would I be?"

"Not awful, Bella. Just human."

Bella snorted.

Esme chuckled. "No, honey, I didn't mean it as a vampire joke. I simply meant that you're not this perfect creature - no one is. And you're not a terrible one, either. I understand that you can't ever be Mason's mother. Believe me, I do. Some wounds just never heal enough for things like that. It would be lovely if they did, but they don't."

"You wanted your son," Bella whispered, "no matter who his father was."

"I did," Esme agreed. "But my situation was not the same as yours, and I was older, Bella. We're not the same person and we did things differently, but there's one way in which we're exactly the same. We both wanted what was best for our sons, Bella. For me, the choice was to raise him on my own. Regardless of how it turned out, that was my plan. I believed he was better off with a single mother than with a violent father, and in those days that was saying something. We would have been poor, constantly struggling. But I still believe he would have been better off with me than with his father." Esme smiled softly at her daughter. "Your situation was different, Bella. The ties between you, Charlie, your rapist, and Mason are twisted and deep. You did a very brave and mature thing, realizing that you couldn't be what he needed. By giving him to Rosalie and Emmett, you provided for him the best way you knew how. I know it's difficult to assuage feelings of guilt, but I think you deserve to put them behind you. You've done your best by him, Bella. You gave him life, and a chance at a healthy childhood. What child could ask for more?"

Tears were falling in earnest again, but Bella was not sobbing. Her brow was pulled into a frown as she puzzled through Esme's words.

"Don't worry about Edward or Mason. Don't worry about Rose or Emmett, me or Carlisle, Jasper or Alice. Just focus on  _you_ , Bella. What is it you want?"

"To be part of a family," Bella whispered. "This family. To never have to see Charlie again. That's all I want."

"Those seem like perfectly reasonable wishes. What about this new pregnancy? What does your gut say?"

Bella pulled away and buried her face in a soft pillow. "I don't know!" she said, her voice perilously close to a wail. "I just don't know!"

"Shh, sweetheart," Esme said swiftly, fearing a panic attack. She hadn't forgotten how terrible Bella's attacks were, back in Forks. Neither had she forgotten that the only person who had successfully calmed her was Edward, and Edward wasn't here yet. "Honey, I didn't mean to upset you. Please, Bella, calm down and talk to me."

Bella continued to hide, and her back heaved as she struggled to regain composure. "I won't freak out," she mumbled through the pillow. "I'm sorry. I just don't know how to answer your question. I really don't."

Esme stroked her hair for several minutes, and finally Bella pulled her head out of the pillow. Dark circles marred her eyes, and Esme saw that she had been losing sleep over this.

"Come on, sweetheart," she said, wrapping her hand around Bella's soft one and pulling gently. "Where is your room? Let's go there. I'll tell you all about what we've been doing at home, and you can rest before Edward gets here. Maybe you'll be able to talk to him better."

Bella's cheeks reddened. "I've kind of been sleeping in the library."

"Oh, I know that," Esme said, smiling gently as Bella allowed herself to be pulled from the bed. "Alice told us a while ago. But I've never been in this house before - you lead, and I'll follow."

Bella obeyed, and Esme watched her small, delicate human frame carefully as they made their way through the halls of Carlisle's ancestral home. So much needed to be said between Bella and Edward. She only hoped they had both matured enough during their separation to withstand it.

* * *

Edward was out of the car the moment the house came into view at the end of the long driveway. He'd been out of his mind with anxiety and worry since beginning the trip, and had many times cursed his decision to let Esme and Jasper accompany Carlisle on the earlier flight. Rosalie was being insufferable, refusing to let anyone else drive the rental with Mason in the car. Not only was she keeping strictly to the speed limit, but she was also obeying every traffic rule as if she'd just received her first license. It was maddening, when all Edward wanted was to see Bella again, to hear the comforting beat of her heart and know that she was all right.

So, as Rose kept the car crawling toward the house, Edward opened his door and dove onto the wet gravel. He rolled and came up running, hearing Emmett's curse and Rosalie's gripe not to use that sort of language around the baby. Edward couldn't care less. He ran as fast as he possibly could toward the impressive bulk of Ellison house, swathed in darkness. Several lights were on, here and there; the house looked more welcoming than it ever had during his stay here with Bella. He allowed himself a pang of regret, remembering how desolate the place had looked on the morning he fled. It had matched how he felt inside - twisted, grey, and old.

But none of that mattered now. Bella had called and asked to see them - asked to see  _him_. He clung to the belief that Bella had chosen to contact him instead of Carlisle or Esme because she'd missed him particularly. They needed to talk - of course they needed to talk. And it would be a difficult conversation. But the fact that she was willing to try meant more to him than he could convey.

The thoughts of his family bled into his mind as he neared the house, but he ignored them. The only thoughts he wanted to know were blocked to him, locked inside a curiously silent mind. But he knew where he would find her. He threw open a side door, not wanting to greet the rest of his family just yet, and flew to the library.

The room was bathed in warmth, and the soft golden light from the large fireplace made Esme look almost alive as she sat on the floor next to a queen-sized air mattress, stroking the long dark hair of its sleeping occupant.

"Shh," Esme murmured, and she smiled happily at her son. The trace of loss, of anguish, was gone from her soft gold eyes. She had her youngest daughter back, and she was content. Edward could not read her emotions as Jasper could, but anyone who knew her understood that look in her eyes. "She fell asleep several hours ago. Poor thing has been worrying herself sleepless."

Edward crept closer to the makeshift bed, gazing softly at the girl who had long since captured his heart. Her heartbeat and respiration were slow - she was deeply asleep. Deeper than he remembered her ever sleeping here in Ellison House. His unbeating heart constricted as he saw again the lovely contours of her face, the sweetness of her slightly-parted lips. God, he had missed her. Missed her in a way that went beyond missing. When he left her in Alice's care, he'd left a part of himself with her.

He knelt next to the mattress, opposite Esme, and lost himself in the sight and sound and smell of his sleeping girl. He breathed deeply, like a desert traveler too long denied water. Bending closer, he rested his forehead softly against the mattress. It smelled like Bella - the whole room was pervaded by her sweet, mouthwatering scent. He swore that nothing could ever make him forget that smell.

And yet...and yet...

 _Edward?_  Esme's mind-voice was hesitant.  _Edward, have you noticed yet?_

He raised his head, instantly wary.

_Son, I know it's Bella's right to tell you. I understand that. But I'm going to step in for her just this once. She's so afraid, and she doesn't know how to say it. Listen to her body carefully and tell me what you hear._

Edward obeyed. Heartbeat, steady breathing. He heard the soft gurgle of her digesting belly, the pulse of blood through her veins. But all of this was utterly normal. What was -

There. It was like a shadow of her heartbeat, but faster and softer. Such a quiet thrumming. If he hadn't been searching for it, he might not have noticed. It was a new sound, something he'd never heard from Bella before.

But he'd heard it from other women, and the moment he found it he knew exactly what the sound meant.

"It's not possible," he breathed, staring at Bella's quietly sleeping form.

 _Possible or not, it's happened,_  Esme thought back.  _It wasn't my place to tell you, Edward, and I'm sorry for that. But she was so afraid of your reaction. I wanted to give you the chance to think about this before she wakes. I know it's a huge shock._

Esme bent forward and pressed her lips softly against Bella's sleeping forehead. She rose gracefully and dusted off her knees, then stepped around the air mattress and squeezed Edward's shoulder gently.  _I'll leave you alone for now. The rest of the family is under strict orders not to disturb either of you. I trust you, son. Just do your best and be truthful. That's all anyone can ask of you._

As soon as Esme closed the door behind her, Edward stretched out beside Bella on the air mattress. It wobbled with every move he made, but he rather liked how his weight rolled her sleeping body more firmly against him. He pressed his chest to her back, unable to keep from touching her a moment longer. As his arm slipped around her waist she mumbled in her sleep, and he smiled. He'd missed that - missed everything about her, everything that made her special and unique.

Touching her, even through layers of clothing and blankets, made a large weight lift from his shoulders. He felt more at peace now than he had for the two months they'd been apart, even with the unexpected news.

Bella was pregnant. Not only pregnant, but she was carrying his child. His. It was a physical impossibility, something he'd never thought could ever happen. If he'd even suspected the potential, he'd have been more careful with her. Added complications like this were the last thing she needed right now.

But...a baby. Despite the questions of what was to come, despite all the uncertainty, Edward's mind kept returning to that fact. A real baby, something he and Bella had created together. He thought of Mason, and how Emmett absolutely melted every time he saw his son.

He could have that.

He'd thought the possibility was gone the moment he was changed, but clearly that wasn't the case. The audible proof lay just under Bella's skin, and each soft fluttering beat filled him with wonder. No matter what happened next, no matter what he and Bella ultimately decided to do, Edward knew that he'd always have this moment - this one moment, where he held not only Bella but a child, too, safe in his arms. Nobody - not the courts or Charlie - could take this away from him.

Esme said she had told him before Bella woke so he had the time to really think about his reaction. Trying to obey, Edward settled Bella's body more firmly against him and found one warm hand, holding it gently. All he really wanted to do was revel in the incredible feeling of having her in his arms again, and the knowledge that they had created a little miracle without meaning to. But life wasn't that simple - certainly not for them - and Esme was right. He needed to figure out what he was going to tell Bella when she woke.

His gut reaction was wonder - wonder, and a deep rush of yearning for this thing he thought he'd never have. Beyond that came the worry. He had no idea what Bella thought or felt about this second pregnancy, and she'd made it quite clear that she had not welcomed the first. She didn't want Mason, and though he understood her reasoning, it made him fearful that she might feel the same for this second baby, too. This child was not conceived in violence as the first one was, but Bella had been confused and hurting during their time together in Ellison House. He couldn't blame her if she felt uneasy about this.

And then there was the nature of the child to consider. How much of it was human, and how much monster? There was no way to tell, and Edward felt a deep pulse of fear as he held Bella's soft form close. She was so fragile, her human body so much weaker than his own. Carrying a child of his seed could be very dangerous for her, and he refused to allow the consequences of his actions to hurt her. Not if he could help it. More than anything else, that was his main concern. He didn't know how much vampire existed in the child's makeup, or how it would affect Bella physically.

But a baby. Every time he thought those words, shock and wonder bled through him. A baby...

Bella stirred in his arms, and Edward jerked his thoughts back to her. She exhaled a deep breath, and a small smile touched the corner of her mouth. "Edward," she murmured, and she turned in his arms, slipping her own around him.

"I'm here," he whispered, though he couldn't quite tell if she was awake or still talking in her sleep. "I'm here, love."

"I could smell you," she said, nuzzling closer to him, and Edward knew then that she truly was awake. He closed his eyes and pulled her tighter against him, knowing the peaceful moment was slipping quickly away. Once she was fully awake, they would have to face facts.

"Bella, I - "

"Shh." She reached up with a warm hand and placed her fingertips against his mouth. "Please, just hold me, Edward. I don't want to do this yet."

Whatever she wanted, he remembered. In this case it was easy to give into her wish - it was what he wanted as well.

"I missed this," she whispered.

"Me, too." Edward kissed her sleek hair. The scent of her was nearly overwhelming - he'd been away too long and had forgotten just how potent it was. He forced down the inappropriate surge of desire that flooded his body; now was definitely not the time.

They lay like that for a long time - an hour or more, Edward thought, as they reaccustomed themselves to the other's touch and scent. It had been far too long. Whatever happened, Edward vowed, he'd do his utmost to see that Bella remained with him. Nothing else was as important as that. He couldn't be alone again; it would break him.

When she finally began to move, reluctantly sitting up, Edward steeled himself. Now it would happen. Now they would find out if what they had learned during the long separation had been enough.

Her dark eyes were troubled, but still so beautiful. She bit her lip, gazing down at him. "Can we go somewhere else?" she asked quietly. "Your room, maybe? Alice promised me that the library could be my sanctuary. I don't want to fight in here."

"Of course." Edward hated that she thought they might fight, but he stood and extended a hand. When she took it, he smiled. He wanted more than anything to catch her up in his arms and carry her, but he had no real reason to and he tried to refrain. Bella wanted to be his equal, and carrying her around like a child would not help to foster that.

"Thank you."

True to Esme's word, they saw no one on the way to Edward's room. He opened the door, anxiety swimming through his system. He had not been back in here since he left her, naked, in his bed. Though Alice swore that Bella bore him no ill will for the despicable way he'd left, he still loathed himself for it.

The room was dark and slightly dusty. Bella knelt on the hearth to kindle a fire.

"I can do that," Edward offered softly, but she shook her head.

"No," she said. "Fire is your enemy. I didn't know before, but I do now. Reading all the journals in this house and talking to Alice has been a big help. I understand more about what you are now." She swallowed. "And I understand more about why you did what you did."

"You mentioned that on the phone, yes."

"Edward, I don't want to...be at odds with you anymore. It hurts too much." She pulled herself up on the high bed and sat cross-legged, looking at him with her big dark eyes.

"Will you let me apologize, then?" He perched just on the edge of the mattress, giving her plenty of space. He remembered how she'd said before that his touch clouded her mind, making it difficult to concentrate. No matter how much he wanted to hold her, he held off. He didn't want to make her feel coerced. "Bella, I am so sorry. So very sorry. When I stole you away from your father's house, all I wanted was to keep you safe. I was afraid you'd just keep running back to him if you were able, and I couldn't let that happen. It was wrong to take you without your consent, and I'm so, so sorry for that, sweetheart. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I can't imagine how you must have felt trapped here. It really was like a kidnapping."

"It wasn't  _like_  a kidnapping, it  _was_  a kidnapping," Bella said, her voice firm but gentle. "I can't express how much it hurt that you didn't trust me enough to talk to me first, Edward."

"Bella, trust me, you expressed it fine." Edward dropped his head. "I knew how hurt you were. I was just too convinced that I was right to do anything about it."

"Why couldn't you talk to me, Edward?" She wasn't near tears, but the pain in her eyes cut him to the quick. "Why couldn't you have asked me why I went back? Did you think I was stupid enough to want what Charlie did to me?"

"No!" Edward pulled at his hair. "I didn't...I don't...you're not stupid, Bella, and I never thought you were. But he just kept hurting you worse and worse, and I was terrified that the next time would be the last. That he'd finally go too far."

"That he'd kill me?"

Edward nodded. Hearing the words from her mouth hurt, but he wasn't sure he was able to say them out loud. Even thinking about her death pushed him to the brink of panic. "You can't die," he insisted. "You're it for me, sweetheart. I'd truly be dead without you. Do you have any idea how terrified I was, before I found you in that fucking box in the garage?"

Something warm touched his knee, and Edward glanced down to see her hand resting against the fabric of his jeans. "I was scared, too," she murmured. "I thought I was going to die there, that no one would look for me. I thought I burned my bridges with you and your family when I left to rescue Mason."

Edward tried to speak, but she held up her hand. "Please. Both Alice and Esme have drilled into my skull how wrong I was. You have my permission to dig through their heads and find those conversations if you want, but I don't want to rehash it all right now. Please understand that I know now how stupid I was." She paused, and her mouth twisted in a painful little grimace. "I want to apologize for him, too. I didn't know your birth name when I named him, I swear I didn't."

"You didn't even know me, let alone the name I abandoned almost a century ago." Edward placed his hand cautiously over hers. "There's no reason to apologize for that."

"At least it isn't spelled the same," she said, and she sniffled a little though her cheeks were dry.

"I wouldn't care if it was. That name is part of who I was a long time ago, not who I am now. I'm Carlisle Cullen's son, and one set of parents at a time is enough for me. I think my birth parents would prefer it this way." He paused. "Would you want Mason to see both you and Rosalie as mothers, when he gets older?"

It was a tricky question because he didn't know the answer and couldn't ferret it out of her mind. But she shook her head quickly, putting his mind at ease. "No," she said, and the answer was solid and sure. "I want him to have the parents who love him and nothing more."

It was the answer Edward had hoped for. At least she wasn't feeling conflicted about one thing in her life.

"Bella? Can I ask you something?"

She nodded faintly.

"If I had asked you, that night as we drove away from your father's house, would you have come with me? If I told you what I was planning, what would you have done?"

One side of her mouth lifted, though there was no humor in it. "I've asked myself that question more times than you can think," she said, ducking her head a little as a pale pink blush bloomed across her cheeks. "I'm not sure we can ever know, because we can't go back to that night and do it over again. But I think...I think I probably would have said yes. I would have asked for Esme or Rose - would have questioned why we had to go alone. But I trusted you so much, Edward, and you have no idea how amazed I was when you rescued me from that awful box." She shook her head. "I think I would have gone with you just about anywhere."

Edward closed his eyes. He knew there was really no room for might-have-beens in their lives, but he couldn't help but mourn for the possibility. With just a few words, he might have spared them months of heartache.

But Bella was right. They would never really know for sure, because they couldn't go back. They could only go forward.

"I've said I'm sorry," Edward said quietly. "I'll say it for the rest of forever if you let me, but I know it's not enough. What can I do, sweet girl? How can I fix this?"

"We're going to have to do it together, whatever it is." Bella moved closer, her body seeking his like a moon toward its planet.

"Of course." Edward moved his arms hesitantly, drawing her against his cold side. She tucked herself against him and tipped her chin up, her eyes intent on his.

"I've apologized to you a lot, too," she said, "though not in person." Her blush grew several shades darker. "I...started writing my journals as letters to you a while ago. It didn't help with the loneliness, but it's helped a little bit with the guilt."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Edward said, catching her hand and stroking his thumb softly across her palm. "Bella, you've done nothing wrong."

"That's not true," she insisted. "I said some awful things to you, and I ignored you most of the time when you were only trying to help me. Your tactics might have been wrong, but the intent was kind. I was too angry to unravel all that, and I did things I regret."

Edward felt his stomach drop at those words. He had a terrible feeling that he knew exactly what she was talking about. "You regret making love," he said, his voice flat.

She shifted uneasily against him, and Edward was again reminded that they were sitting on the very bed where this all had happened - where everything had gone to hell. But it was also the place where Bella had given herself fully to him, and they had conceived a miracle. He couldn't make himself regret it, but clearly she did.

"I do," she finally admitted, "but I don't, too."

"I don't understand." Edward frowned, but her soft, warm hand came up to brush at the lines on his brow and he couldn't remain upset when she touched him like that. He'd quickly abandoned his own resolve not to touch her while they spoke, but she seemed to be holding her own.

"I love you, Edward," she said, nibbling on her lip as she spoke. "That isn't going to change. But I coerced you, and I hate that. I hate that our first time together wasn't really making love - or, at least, it didn't seem that way to me. I needed comfort and got carried away, and I regret that I wasn't strong enough to stop when I should have."

"Oh, sweetheart..." Edward pulled her closer and buried his face in her dark hair. "Please don't think like that. Trust me - if I hadn't wanted to, nothing in the world could have changed my mind. I wanted to love you physically, just as I love you emotionally. I wanted to take away your pain, and I thought it might help. Please don't feel like you forced me. You didn't, sweetheart. You didn't."

Bella sighed, a warm wash of air tickling his neck and collarbone. "I still wish it had happened differently," she murmured.

"We have all the time in the world to make new, better memories, when you're ready." Edward kissed her head softly.

"Really?"

"Really," he said, allowing himself a small chuckle. As if she thought he wouldn't want her anymore. The idea was ludicrous. "And we can do it right, next time. If you want romance, you'll get it. Candles, soft music, all of it."

She shook her head softly against his shoulder. "I don't want that silly stuff," she said.

"What do you want, then?" Whatever it was, he'd get it for her - do it for her.

"Just...you and me," she said. She sighed, and he knew the frustrated little puff of breath when he heard it. She was searching for words that didn't come easily. "I want it to be intentional, not an accident. I want it to be about love, not about trying to assuage pain."

That made a great deal of sense, and Edward smiled. Her wish was perfect, just like her. Pragmatic but tender all at the same time.

They were silent for several moments before Edward felt her draw another breath. "Who told you?" she asked, and he didn't have to pause to know what she was talking about. She'd quickly changed topics, but he still knew.

"Esme," he said quietly. "She said she knew it wasn't her place, but that she wanted me to have some time to process before you woke up."

Bella sighed again. "How does she always seem to know what I need?"

"That's a mother for you."

She bit her lip. "I really don't know if I could ever do that - be like that."

"She's had a lot of practice, Bella. I think it's something that grows with time."

"I'm afraid, Edward."

"I know, and you've every right to be. I'm a little scared, myself."

"Esme asked me how I felt, and I couldn't tell her. I wish I knew so I could explain to you, Edward, but I just don't."

"Come here." He slid up further on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Bella crawled willingly over and sat next to him, very conscious of the cool, reassuring arm around her waist. She'd craved his touch ever since she lost it, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to bask in the sweetness of being held in his firm arms. They needed to talk about this, and she knew that. But it didn't make her any more clear about how she felt or what she wanted.

"You don't need to narrow it down to just one thing," Edward said quietly, stroking her hair. It felt amazing and she closed her eyes, savoring the touch. Alice gave wonderful sisterly hugs, but it wasn't the same as being held like this - so firm, so secure. She felt grounded when she was in Edward's arms, and that was a very frightening thing. Rose kept lecturing that she needed to find herself before attempting to love someone else. But what if she found herself in Edward's arms? She was willing to bet that wasn't what Rosalie had meant.

"I feel ten thousand different things," Bella admitted. She was so unsure, now that he was with her and they were actually talking about this new pregnancy. Everything had gone so well up until now, and she was terrified that this might just be too much for him - for them both - to take.

"Can you try to tell me?" he asked, and his voice was so soft, so comforting. It was the warm, dark velvet she had craved. "It's okay if you're confused. Talking can help."

Her journals were supposed to help, too, but they hadn't with this. Maybe because she hadn't been able to bring herself to write the words. But if she and Edward were going to have a chance together they needed to be able to communicate. For that chance, Bella would try.

"I'm scared for so many reasons," she said, starting with the most prevalent emotion. "I'm not ready, Edward. In so many ways I'm still so broken, and I just don't know if I'd ever be a good mom. It's not like I had very good parenting role models, growing up."

"No, you didn't," Edward agreed. "But there's another way to think about it. You know the things that hurt a child most, and I have no doubt you'd do your utmost to keep your own child from experiencing them."

"I'd do my best," Bella agreed. That much she knew for sure. Esme was right - she'd tried to do her best by Mason, too. Even though she couldn't parent him, she'd done what she could to ensure his safety and happiness. "But what if my best isn't good enough?" This was her greatest fear, the one that kept her up at night long after Alice's reassurances that the Cullens would never abandon her had ceased.

"You'd have me by your side, and the rest of our family backing us, Bella. With all of us, we'd muddle through. No parent is perfect."

The word parent falling from Edward's lips made tingles run down her spine, and she didn't know why.

"I'm also afraid of what you think," she admitted, dropping her eyes and staring at a button on his shirt. She couldn't look at him while she admitted this. It was her second-greatest fear, after insecurities about her own shortcomings. Esme and the rest of the family would help her no matter what, but what would happen to the tight-knit family bonds if Edward didn't want this? She didn't know much, but she knew that she didn't want him sticking around only to be gentlemanly. She was also certain that she did not want to tear this family to pieces, and she was desperately afraid this might be the ultimate outcome.

Edward exhaled, and Bella felt his arms tense around her as he gathered her body, altering their positions. He sat up straight and pulled her carefully into his lap, letting her legs fall to either side of his thighs. She was almost eye to eye with him in this position despite their height difference, and she gazed at the burnished gold color she loved so much.

"I almost feel like we're children playing a game," he said with a small, tight smile, "daring each other to go first, and we keep upping the ante." He touched her cheek softly, then ran his cool hands down her arms to grip her elbows. "It's a cute image, I guess, but in a game like that someone always gets hurt. I don't want that for us, and I'm through playing." He squeezed her arms lightly for a moment. "I love you, Bella, and I want this for us. I didn't know it was possible, and I didn't bring you here with the purpose of impregnating you. I know this has to be a difficult situation for you, what with your past. But I don't want the past to get in the way of what could be a beautiful future. Bella, you have to understand - I never dreamed this was possible. I know people say all babies are miracles, but this one truly is. I know you're hurt and you might feel like you're so broken that nothing could ever put you together again. But would a baby really be so bad? So scary?"

Bella felt the first tears spill over, though she wished she could contain them as she used to do so well. Whether it was hormones or just the stress of the situation, she was crying more than usual and she didn't like it. But Edward's words melted her. They didn't make her feel less conflicted, really, but knowing how he felt eased a giant weight that had been pressing against her chest ever since she suspected she might be pregnant again. He wanted this. Wanted this with  _her_. Now that he knew it was possible for a human woman to conceive a vampire's child he could go out and pick whichever human woman he chose, if all he wanted was a baby. But he didn't just want any baby, he wanted this one. His. Hers. Bella moved to press her forehead against his, sharing breath, warm and cold.

"I won't lie - I'm afraid, too. That fetus within you is part of me, and I don't know yet how much it will affect your body as it grows. I hate that we have to worry about this, but it scares me, Bella. This could be extremely dangerous for you."

"That doesn't bother me," Bella murmured. It was true, too. She knew perfectly well that whatever was growing inside her wasn't entirely human. She wasn't stupid. But Edward's biggest fear about this had barely registered for her. Edward and his family would never hurt her. She refused to be afraid of something that was a part of him.

"No doubt," Edward said, twisting his lips into a wry smile and pulling away just enough to look at her clearly. "Even after Alice broke your collarbone - which I still haven't forgiven her for, by the way - you have no fear."

"I told you on the phone," Bella said, and she allowed herself a small smile of her own. "I'm starting to understand better how you feel about my safety. But I'm still not afraid of you, and nothing you can say will change that."

Edward's smile gentled. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you."

Bella knew he meant more than just the two months since they last saw each other. "You just like me because I'm certifiably insane," she said unsteadily, desperately needing to lighten the atmosphere.

He chuckled, and she relaxed a little. "No, lovely girl. I love you because you are  _you_. And, if you consent, I am going to kiss you now."

"Please," she breathed.

Edward's head dipped a shade lower, and his mouth locked gently with hers. Bella felt most of the tension bleed from her body with that cool touch. Electricity feathered through her veins, igniting every nerve ending. She had sorely missed this - missed the gentle curve of his lips as he moved them over hers, sliding softly along her skin. She'd missed his arms holding her tightly, his hands pressed to her skin, soothing the heat his presence ignited. She wound one arm around his neck, stroking her fingers through his soft hair. He groaned against her lips, and the sound shot straight through her. She could feel herself trembling at the precipice of yes and no, just at the moment where she still had the will to tell him to stop.

But she didn't want to. They still had a lot of talking to do, and she still had a ways to go before she could fully forgive him and put the past behind them. But right now her body craved his touch, craved what she had been missing for more than ten long weeks.

Edward's mouth moved lower, leaving her lips and pressing slow, smooth kisses along her delicate jaw and the long sweep of her throat. Bella held him tightly. Yes, she thought. This is what she wanted. This is what she needed. It would be slow and gentle, unlike the frenzied way they'd had sex before. She wouldn't be afraid, and he wouldn't feel the need to be anything but a lover. Not a provider. Not a caretaker. Just her Edward, and nothing more. She moved her own mouth, finding his earlobe and nibbling the cold flesh. Her free hand slid down from his collarbone, finding the first button on his shirt and undoing it.

Instantly Edward's hand was cupped around hers, stilling it. "Bella," he said, breathing hard. "Bella, please. Are you sure? This can't end up like before; it just can't. You'll break me if you run from me again."

She felt tears stinging her eyes once again, but ruthlessly pushed them back. She shook her head softly. "No, Edward, no running this time. I promise. I want to replace the old memories with better ones."

"That," Edward said, a bright smile playing across his face, "sounds like an excellent idea."

He kissed across her healed collarbone, and Bella felt her body melt, turning liquid and pliable. She slowly undid the buttons on his shirt as he kissed her, his lips brushing softly against her skin. A cold breath blew down her shirt, making her nipples pebble, and she sucked in a deep breath of her own. She pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, smiling as he helped when the fabric bunched at his wrists.

"You smell so good," she whispered, stroking her fingers down the firm planes of his chest and abdomen.

"Just so we're clear on this," he said, pressing a kiss against the clothed curve of her shoulder, "I am going to make love to you, Bella."

She nodded, finding his jaw with her hand and bringing his head to hers so she could kiss him. "No fear," she murmured against his mouth. "No pain. Just us."

"Well, not quite just us." He quirked his mouth at her and eased her shirt over her head. Bella lay back against the bedspread, watching him with curious, unafraid eyes. He kissed a soft line down the middle of her chest, ignoring the tempting swells of her breasts and intriguing angles of her ribs, and paused at the button on her jeans. Instead of undoing it, he pressed a kiss to the soft, tender skin. Only some pregnant women were showing at ten weeks, but to his keen eyes Bella was one of them. His vampire vision paired with her small, slight frame made visible a hesitant rounding just above her hipbones, and he kissed gently just where the sound of the fetal heartbeat was strongest. "Hi, baby," he whispered. "Daddy's here. I'm sorry I wasn't around earlier, but I am now. I hope you're comfortable in there, because it'll be a while until I get to hold you. But don't worry. You're safe, and everything's going to be just fine."

As Edward leaned over her belly and talked to it Bella felt her heart constrict. With her first pregnancy, she'd never really had the chance to think about the fact that she was carrying an actual baby around inside of her. She'd been too upset, too twisted with panic, to really feel what Edward was slowly making her realize. Before his birth, Mason had been like a shadow, a specter looming large and dark over her life. She'd never had the chance or the inclination to really think of him as what he was - a baby.

Now, hearing Edward's words, she knew for a fact that she couldn't deny him this. They still had a long way to go, fumbling toward a healthy relationship. One long talk wouldn't fix everything, though it was a promising start. But as she felt his cool lips trace over the small, soft swell she'd been trying to hide from her own eyes, she knew her decision was made. She didn't know what the future held for them, but she could see how much Edward wanted this and she absolutely could not take it away from him now. She would see it through for him.

But now wasn't the time for talking anymore, and she rolled over, twisting as she moved. They ended up splayed out the wrong way on the bed, but Edward was underneath her, his arms firm around her waist, and she lowered her head to kiss him. He undid her bra with one smooth, deft stroke, and she discarded the garment with a toss.

He was hard underneath her, and Bella felt the heat of desire pulsing rapidly through her body, pooling low in her abdomen. His hands stroked up and down her bare back, cold feathers of sensation as he brushed just his fingertips against her skin.

"Will you turn over?" she asked, touching her lips to his cheek.

He did. Bella settled herself on top of him again, kneeling against his lower back. She didn't think she'd ever seen his bare back displayed like this before, and her eyes traveled across the expanse of pale skin stretched across lean muscle and bone. His head was turned to the side, an amused smile lighting his eyes and the corner of mouth she could see. His hair tickled at the back of his neck in a way she couldn't resist, and she reached forward to comb her fingers through the softness.

He closed his eyes in bliss when her hands wove into his hair, stroking through the fine strands and scratching lightly along his scalp. A strange, rumbling sound began somewhere in his chest, and she could feel the vibration against her inner thighs as she straddled him. She paused, surprised. He wasn't growling. It almost sounded like a...purr?

"You purr, Edward?" she asked hesitantly, her lips brushing against his ear as she leaned forward to whisper to him.

His smile widened. "Only when blissfully, perfectly happy."

Bella moved slightly, pressing her mouth against the back of his neck, just below the soft strands of hair. She was fully aware that she'd never heard that sound from him before, though they'd made love - in this very bed - more than once. So he  _had_  noticed, on some level, that something was off before.

But not now - now everything was as right as it could possibly be. The sweet rumble began again as soon as he stopped talking, and she reveled in the warm, seductive sound. More than a moan or a hiss, it was the sound of Edward's happiness. She absolutely loved it.

Slowly she traced her hands down his back, learning the fascinating angles of his body. He remained still, letting her explore, doing nothing but purring quietly under her ministrations. She leaned forward, kissing his spinal column, each little knob of vertebrae smooth and cool under her lips. He tasted just as she remembered - cold and fresh and cucumber-y, a little spicy, a little sweet. She licked the back of his neck, running firmer hands along the lines of his muscles.

"I don't suppose a back rub would do much for you?" she said, sighing a little.

"Not from your human hands, I hate to say," he said, smiling gently. "I love your touch, though. You have no idea how badly I'm addicted to you."

She raised herself up, letting him turn over again before she settled back down. She could feel his erection pressing against his jeans, and anticipation buzzed along her nerves. She bent again, nuzzling his chest before brushing her lips across a flat nipple. Edward sucked in a surprised breath as she unfurled her tongue, licking, then hesitantly used her teeth to nibble on the puckered flesh. He groaned, the purr intensifying. "Yes," he encouraged, finding her legs with his hands and rubbing gently. "I have to be gentle with you, but you don't have to be so gentle with me. You can't hurt me, sweetheart."

"Does that mean you like it?" she asked, a little doubtfully. She hadn't been quite sure before she used her teeth, but he seemed pleased.

"Yes," he agreed, catching her chin and bringing her close to kiss her. "Don't be afraid. You can bite or nibble at will, as you wish."

Their mouths met, intensity rising, swelling within Bella, and she pressed herself close to him. She wanted to drown in his scent, his taste - even the soft rumble of his purr. Physically, everything about him was perfect. Physically, there was nothing she'd ever want more.

When he released her mouth she drew back, panting a little, catching her breath. She scooted further down his body, sitting on his thighs, and rested her hands against the fly of his jeans. "Can I?" she asked. While Edward claimed all was forgiven about their previous encounters, she still didn't want to push. She wanted him to want this just as much as she did.

"Please," he said, almost panting himself though she knew by now that he didn't actually need the oxygen. "Please, Bella."

She undid the button and drew the zipper down, then slid her fingers through two belt loops, tugging at his jeans. He helped, and together they drew the material from his skin. His black boxers were next, and Bella sat quietly on his legs, really looking at him for the first time.

Edward remained still, letting her do this her way. His body ached to be inside her, but he forced control upon the frenzied desire. She was forcing herself to actually face something she feared, and he was so proud of her for that. Before, she couldn't even bring herself to look at his penis. She hadn't touched it, hadn't even really acknowledged it except to ask him to "do it quickly." Like a band-aid.

Now she was taking him in fully, her eyes looking and accepting all of him, every inch from his scalp to his knees, for what he was. She saw the monster in his gold eyes and the man in his erect cock, and accepted them both. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she let her dark eyes drift to his.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, and the vulnerability in her voice made Edward immediately want to comfort her. But before he could hasten to do so, she shook her head a little and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice still quiet but a little firmer. "Don't baby me, please. Show me how I can please you."

This was a new Bella, and Edward could hardly believe it. She'd grown so much in what was really quite a short time, no matter how long it felt while they were apart. Instead of asking to be held, she was pushing through her fear. It wouldn't always be this way, he knew. Setbacks were inevitable. But her will to succeed astounded him.

"Edward?"

Right. He swallowed, a little nervous. This would be awkward, but he couldn't possibly deny Bella's request when she asked like that.

"It's really just like any other part of the body, sweetheart," he said, taking her right hand in his left. "You can touch. It won't bite, and I won't break."

Her blush flowed from her hairline all the way down her chest, but she bit her lip and remained firm. He ached to see her struggling, but she had asked not to be babied and he was going to do his best to comply. This relationship had to be on Bella's terms, he reminded himself. In order to win back her trust, he had to learn to bend.

"Base," he said quietly, taking his hand and wrapping hers around the base of his cock. He grit his teeth at the first soft touch of her warm hand, forcing his hips not to lift toward her as they so badly wanted to do. "Shaft," he said, when he had regained control. He guided her hand up his rigid length and back down again. He paused for a moment. The next one was harder. "Head," he said, motioning awkwardly without touching. "Try not to touch that dry, please. It's extremely sensitive."

"Like my..."

"Like your clit, yes. Very like. I wouldn't touch you dry there, either."

Her fingers were gently stroking his length, and Edward clamped down hard on his control. The warmth of her hands and her curious eyes absolutely undid him. At least she was just touching and hadn't wrapped her hand firmly around him.

"Your skin is so soft here," she murmured wonderingly. "I thought it might..." She trailed off and shook her head a little. "But it's like velvet." She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Velvet that's been in the freezer."

"I'm sorry for that, sweetheart. I'd change it if I could."

"No." Bella smiled at him gently. "I love you just as you are. If you changed, you wouldn't be my Edward."

Her Edward.  _Her_  Edward. He definitely liked the sound of that.

Edward was so wrapped up in what she'd said that he didn't notice what she was doing until suddenly the head of his cock was enveloped in soft, wet heat. He jumped a little, opening his eyes wide when he saw her draw her mouth away from him.

Her blush was truly red now, and she bit her lip again. "You said not to touch you there dry," she mumbled, clearly embarrassed. "I didn't know how else to get you wet."

Edward had to laugh. She had seen so much, and yet every so often her innocence astounded him.

"Don't laugh," she said, squeezing her legs around his and fighting back her own smile. "I'm not stupid. High school kids are crude, and I've got ears."

"Do what you wish, lovely girl," he said, stroking her knee again. "But please don't do it just because you think I want you to. Do it because  _you_  want to."

Bella smiled. "I want to," she said, and lowered her head again.

She licked and nibbled with her dull human teeth all along his length, her hands stroking his hips and cupping the weight of his balls, learning his body slowly with lips and fingers. She licked her lips, wetting them, before pressing a delicate kiss to the tip of his erection, making him growl low with desire and anticipation. He was all for letting her explore and play, but the teenager within him wanted more.

Hoping it was all right, he moved his hands from her bent knees to her hips and slid his fingers along the waistline of her jeans. She helped him draw the rest of her clothes from her body and lay down next to him, their bodies flush, legs entwined.

Edward took her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Are you afraid?"

"No," Bella said quietly, and in that moment she wasn't. She feared absolutely nothing. "I love you, Edward."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that," he replied, and he hitched her leg carefully over his hip, slowly sliding within her.

Bella both felt and heard his purr resume as they began moving together slowly, and she kept her eyes open this time, watching him as he watched her. The hard length of him felt cold and foreign inside her, but with every gentle movement it grew more and more pleasurable. This wasn't frightening, she realized as she turned on her back and pulled him with her. It wasn't frightening at all. They'd both made mistakes, but they were willing to work toward forgiveness and understanding. She moved with him, eyes locked, and saw what she'd missed the last time when she refused to look at him at all.

His eyes were so bright they were almost glowing, and the devotion in them was plain. He'd screw up again, his eyes were trying to tell her, but not with this. He'd always love her. Any mistakes paled in comparison with that.

When she came this time, it was as if a ball of warmth rolled along her nerves, wiping the slate clean and leaving her boneless. She tucked herself into Edward's cool side, her eyes fluttering as her heart slowed.

"Sleep, love," he said, the soft velvet of his voice enveloping her with warmth. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

"So will I," she mumbled, and she heard his answering chuckle. Though the wording was off, the meaning was clear. Neither of them was running anymore. There was absolutely nothing to run from.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Heidi opened her umbrella as she leaned carefully out of her car, picking her way through the sodden grass and mud of the Black front yard. She really hated making uncomfortable house calls so close to the holidays. It was difficult enough having to discuss touchy matters with people under normal circumstances, but everyone was ten times more tense during this time of year. Holidays were stressful on everyone, but in households with domestic problems it was always ten times worse. Families splintered from the pressure, parents breaking and children coming quickly and explosively undone. Suicides and attempted suicides were up. Joblessness and poverty took a greater toll when the entire world was caught up in a frenzy of advertising-induced consumerism.

She had three house calls to make today, and she wasn't looking forward to any of them. This visit to the Blacks wasn't going to be pleasant, but it would likely be the easiest of the day. Heidi suspected Jacob was involved only peripherally with Isabella Swan and her child, and this visit was to clear things up and get them out in the open. She hoped that the Blacks would be cooperative - she was, after all, likely going to absolve Jacob of any involvement in the Swan case. But there were, of course, complications. In her line of work there were always complications. In this case, the major complication was Billy Black, Jacob's father. The Cullens had intimated that Billy was good friends with Charlie Swan, and that could spell trouble. While Heidi had the authority to talk with Jacob with or without his father's permission, she did not want to stir up trouble with the tribe. As a social worker for the state, getting access to families on reservations was hard enough. Native populations were always suspicious of any sort of government intervention - and with good reason, most of the time. But ethnic and generational mistrust wasn't going to solve any problems on either side, and it made Heidi's job ten times harder than it needed to be.

Now she walked up the sagging porch steps, glancing around the small, sopping clearing in the dripping woods. The pervasive, miserable damp cold of the Pacific Northwest hung close around her, and her breath steamed in the grey air. When it rained nonstop like this - a constant flow of water that did not abate for days - even the evergreens seemed leeched of their color. The world looked very wet and brown and grey from the Black front porch. There were some tumbledown fences rotting quietly in the clearing next to the house, and a leaning outbuilding - a barn or a shop - from which muddy wheel ruts led back to the gravel road. The clogged gutters above Heidi's head made a choked gurgling sound. The only other noise was the incessant drip of rain.

Shivering a little, Heidi set her umbrella upside down on the front porch and knocked on the door. She took a breath, then another, steadying herself. She had never been to this house before, and she didn't know what she would find. No matter how much training she'd had, first visits were always somewhat nervewracking.

Heavy footsteps shook the very foundation of the little red house, and Heidi looked up expectantly as the door opened, revealing the baby-faced boy she had seen only once before, standing next to Isabella when they came to visit her office in Olympia.

"Jacob Black," she greeted, holding out her hand. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Isabella's social worker, Heidi."

Jacob's curious gaze suddenly turned anxious, and he swallowed nervously. "I remember," he said quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"I have an appointment with you and your father," she said gently. "Did he forget to tell you?"

"I didn't forget," a deep male voice said from inside the house. "I didn't tell him because I wanted to be sure he didn't run off and miss your visit. Let the woman in, Jake."

Jacob stepped dully away from the door, allowing Heidi to enter. She glanced around quickly, schooling her expression. This house was nothing like the Cullens', but she hadn't expected it to be. The rooms were small and dark, the worn curtains drawn over the windows and very few lights lit. The furniture was old and well-used, and the damp smell of mildew hung in the air. Still, Heidi was careful not to make any immediate judgments about the Black family. Being working-class was no crime, and loving families existed in places far worse than this little house. Lack of fancy furniture meant nothing, in her eyes.

"Please, come in," the deep voice said again, and Heidi fastened her eyes on a stocky middle-aged man sitting at ease in a manual wheelchair. She had not known Billy was disabled, but it hardly mattered. She stepped forward and extended her hand.

"Billy Black?" she said, "I'm Heidi. We spoke briefly on the phone. Thank you for taking time out of your day to meet me, especially during this busy time of year."

Billy's handshake was firm, which Heidi appreciated. He did not look altogether pleased, but he was making an effort to be polite. That was more than she got from a lot of other visits, and she was grateful. "Let's sit at the table," he suggested. "Jake, you too. She's here because of you, you know."

As they settled at the small kitchen table, Heidi took the opportunity to study Jacob and his father a little more. Billy Black had a strong profile and he looked both alert and capable. Jacob looked even more like a scolded puppy than he had at the office in Olympia. He sat gingerly in a vinyl-covered chair, his shoulders hunched and his tall, lanky body tucked in on itself.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Heidi repeated. She often found that excessive politeness went a long way toward making people open up about difficult topics. "Mr. Black, I know I didn't say very much on the phone. I'm wondering if you know why I'm here?"

He opened his arms, dropping his hands to the table in a gesture that meant he was willing to listen. "Not really. I know it has something to do with Bella, and you had questions for Jake. We have nothing to hide, ma'am, so I didn't think the topic in question much mattered."

"Just Heidi, please," she said. "I'm afraid I can't go into detail about some things, as this is an ongoing investigation and we have confidentiality guidelines to meet as well. But I will say this: I am the social worker for a young child by the name of Mason Ryan Cullen, and I've very recently been officially appointed as Isabella Swan's social worker as well."

There was a hint of unpleasant recognition in Billy's eyes when she mentioned the name  _Cullen_ , and it did not go unnoticed. Heidi filed that bit of information away in her head as she pulled out her yellow legal pad and a pen. "I've been told that you are acquainted with the Swans."

"Yes," Billy said, looking wary for the first time during the conversation. "The chief and I have been friends for some time, and his daughter grew up with Jacob, here. When she was visiting, of course - she spent most of the year with her mother in Phoenix until recently."

"Yes, I'm aware of the custody change." Heidi wished she had cameras trained on both Billy and his son during this conversation. She wanted to watch both of them as they talked, and she found her eyes flicking rapidly back and forth. Jacob still hadn't said anything, and he was staring at his hands in his lap as if they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen. "What about the other name? Mason Ryan. Are you familiar with him?"

Billy shook his head. "You said it was a kid, right? I don't know any kids off the reservation."

"Jacob?"

The boy looked up at her with big, frightened eyes. His mouth started to open, but no sound came out.

"Tell the truth, Jake," Billy ordered, frowning at his son.

"Jacob. Mr. Black." Heidi called their attention back to her. "I want to make something clear before we go any further. I'm not here to lay blame; I'm not here to cause trouble. I want truthful answers, and that's all. Jacob will not be in trouble for anything he says or anything he did. I just really need the truth right now."

Jacob eyed her carefully, as if judging the sincerity of her words. Finally, reluctantly, he nodded slowly. "I've seen him," he said quietly.

Billy stared at his son. Heidi was positive that this was news to him.

"Mason was who you and Bella came to talk to me about several months ago," Heidi said softly, trying to keep her voice gentle. She wasn't here to pass judgment. She just needed the truth.

Jacob nodded again, his eyes still fastened to his hands in his lap.

"Jacob, I realize that you must be feeling pulled in about a million different directions right now," Heidi continued. "You want to do the right thing, but you don't know what that is. You want to make your father happy, and Bella happy. You want to stay out of trouble with me. It must feel like you have no good options right now."

Slowly Jacob raised his eyes again. He didn't look particularly convinced. It was a completely canine wariness on his face, like a dog that wasn't sure it should heed its master's call.

"Isabella entrusted you with secrets," Heidi said quietly. "Didn't she." It wasn't quite a question. She let it hang in the air for a moment, though she didn't expect him to answer.

He did not.

Billy was watching them closely, frowning between his son and the social worker. She could see his mind grasping at possibilities and discarding them just as quickly. He had no idea what they were talking about. Well, he would in a moment.

"She told you things - things she never told anyone else. You grew up together. She trusted you, and she asked you to come to Olympia with her. To see me."

Still no response from Jacob, but he was staring at her and not dropping his eyes again. It was progress. Heidi pushed a little further.

"I need to know what she said to you, Jacob. I need to know what you know, and what made her decide to do what she did. I've spoken at length with the Cullens on multiple occasions, and she told them a lot. Now I need to hear it from you."

"What do the Cullens have to do with Isabella?" Billy asked suspiciously. The question wasn't directed at anyone in particular, and Heidi deflected it gently toward Jake.

"Jacob?" she prompted.

It took him a minute, but he finally spoke. "She went to them," he mumbled, dropping his eyes and speaking to his hands, which were now clenched tightly together on top of the table. "She left Charlie and went to them. I don't know what made her change her mind, but she called me to come get her the weekend before we went to Olympia. I drove her truck over there and brought her home."

" _That's_  where she went when she ran away?" Billy asked. He sounded appalled. Heidi wondered why. He didn't seem surprised to hear of Bella's first runaway attempt, so why did it seem to matter so much to him where she'd gone? "Jake! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you haul her out of there?"

"I didn't know!" Jake looked up at his father briefly, spirit rising in him for a moment before it quickly died and he hunched over in his chair again. "She called in the middle of the night. I didn't even know she'd run away until she called me to go get her."

"You're supposed to watch out for her!" Billy said. He wasn't snapping or yelling, but his voice was hard. "Letting her waltz into that house is - " He cut off abruptly, his eyes flicking toward Heidi.

Yet another thing to file away in her head. Heidi didn't comment on the broken sentence and instead pushed on ahead. "Jacob, listen to me. You know Bella is missing again, and has been for some time, right?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes on his hands again.

"I'm worried about her, and so are the Cullens. They don't know where she is."

"Shouldn't you say, 'So is her father'?" Billy asked, still sounding suspicious.

Heidi turned her gaze to Jacob's father, putting on the calm, cool facade that was so helpful sometimes with belligerent people. Billy wasn't belligerent, but she suspected he wasn't being entirely truthful either. She couldn't quite make herself believe that this man knew absolutely nothing about how Charlie Swan treated his daughter. Not if they were such old friends. Not if the abuse was as pervasive as Bella's confessions led her to believe. "Should I?" she asked simply, putting no emotion behind the words at all.

Billy said nothing. They stared at each other for a while, each one sizing the other up, almost as if trying to call the other's bluff. He was wary, Heidi saw. He knew. How much, she didn't know. But he knew something. He knew enough. Enough to understand the root behind why she was here. He might not know anything about Isabella's child, but that was almost beside the point when she was preparing Isabella's case to go to court.

Finally, when it was clear Billy was not about to admit to anything, Heidi turned back to his son. Jake had been watching them warily and he gulped audibly as Heidi returned her attention to him.

"Jacob, I need to know the truth," she said, using her soft, cajoling voice again. "Mason is safe. Whatever she was afraid of, I promise it won't happen. But I need to know."

His body shifted slightly. It was only a small flicker of movement, but it was enough. Heidi saw his confusion peak, saw that he was at the point now where a gentle push from her would open his mouth.

"Jacob. Did you father Isabella's son?"

Billy's breath caught in his throat and his ruddy face went pale. Whatever he had been expecting, Heidi bet this wasn't it.

Jacob refused to look at either of them, but after a moment he slowly shook his head.

Heidi let out a soft breath, refusing to sigh loudly and expansively like she wanted to do. She'd cracked him. Jacob would tell her what she wanted to know now. "Good," she praised. "Thank you for the truth, Jacob, that's all I ask. You're not in trouble. In fact, I'm very impressed with you for helping your friend. I need you to help her again, now. I need you to tell me what happened."

After what seemed like an eternity, Jacob began to speak. His voice was halting and quiet, and sometimes his mumbled words were hard to make out, but he was talking. "On the ride back from the Cullen house," he said, almost whispering, "she made me promise to help her. Didn't say what it was exactly, just that we were skipping school and going to Olympia, and that Charlie would have no reason to be mad at me. She said I owed her."

"Why?" Heidi pressed. "Why did you owe her, Jacob?"

He swallowed hard and his eyes shot up toward his father before dropping again. He shook his head, his chest moving rapidly as his breathing and heart rate increased. Heidi knew the clear signs of acute stress when she saw them. The boy was panicking.

"Mr. Black," she said, trying to keep her voice firm, "look at what this secret is doing to your family - to your son! He's terrified to tell the truth, even though he knows perfectly well that I know what he knows. Can't we move past this? Can't we get this all out in the open, once and for all?"

Billy's jaw was set in a firm line and his eyes were cold as he stared at her. "What happens behind closed doors is the business of that family," he said stonily. "Not friends. Not outsiders. Not the government. I know what you want me to say - what you want my boy to say. Well, it's not going to work. How Charlie chooses to parent is up to him, not me and not the state. Isabella is his daughter, not mine."

Frustration welled up within Heidi, but she tamped it down. Getting into a shouting match with the man wouldn't help anything. "Mr. Black, please try to listen. At what point does personal freedom turn into a terrible crime? I understand your beliefs on the matter - believe me, I've heard them many times before. But, tell me, where do you draw the line? Permanent scars? Fears and nightmares that will never go away? Threats to the next generation?" She shook her head a little. "Isabella Swan had a child last spring, Mr. Black, and Charlie hid the evidence. He lied to the state about the boy's parentage - for what reason, I don't know yet. Your son courageously agreed to pose as the baby's father so he could be adopted, and Isabella chose to give the infant to the Cullens. Then she disappeared. But not before confessing to at least some of what her father did to her." Heidi paused, drawing a breath. That was more than she should have said, but the cat was out of the bag now. She couldn't take her words back. This wasn't news to Charlie, anyway. He'd already been served a court summons, and had been updated each time their court date was pushed back. She'd heard nothing from him - didn't even know if he'd found himself a lawyer yet.

Billy remained stoic throughout Heidi's speech. She waited, but he still refused to speak.

Finally Heidi sighed. She couldn't force the man to turn on his friend. If he was called to testify in court and refused, he'd be found in contempt. But they were a long way from that still, and she had no power to compel him here. "Jacob," she said quietly, turning back to the boy, "I have a swab here. We'll take some DNA just to be sure, for the courts. Understand, though, that I believe you when you say you are not Mason's father."

Jacob complied silently with the swab test, and when the DNA sample was safely in its sealed container he hesitated. "W-what will happen now?" he asked uncertainly.

"Mason is safe," Heidi assured him. "The state sees no reason to annul the adoption right now. When we find the boy's real biological father - well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Something in Jacob's eyes made Heidi pause. "Jacob?" she asked, training him with her best inquiring stare. "Do you know who it is?"

"She told me she was raped," he whispered, dropping his eyes.

Heidi felt her stomach sink, though she'd more or less prepared herself for news of this sort. It wasn't the same as hearing it, though. All she could think about were Bella's big brown eyes, so sweet and so frightened. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

"Did she say anything else?" she asked Jacob quietly.

He nodded haltingly. "She told me a story," he said, and he swallowed again. "It was crazy, though. I didn't believe her."

"But you helped her anyway." Heidi watched him carefully. "Why, Jacob?"

It took a long time for him to answer, but he finally did. "Charlie."

"What about Charlie, Jacob?" she prompted.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly again, and he refused to look at anyone. "She told me he knew."

* * *

Bella woke early the next morning, finding herself bundled in a pile of blankets, Edward's firm chest spooned against her back and his arm holding her close. He breathed evenly as he held her, and she could almost imagine he was sleeping.

Slowly she waited for her entire body to wake, shifting a little in his arms and feeling what she already knew would be a delicious ache from their exertions the night before. She'd skipped dinner and would have to think about breakfast soon, but for now she wanted nothing more than to remain where she was. Edward was here, she was well-rested, and she felt...good. Strangely at peace.

As she thought his name, Edward moved his hand. He slid it across her belly, down her abdomen to rub the spot where the fetus grew. The tenderness of his touch also made her ache, though it was a completely different feeling. This one wasn't physical, but it was so visceral that it almost felt like it. He'd grown so attached already. Wistfulness consumed her. She didn't understand why she didn't feel like Edward did. She'd decided already to see this pregnancy through, but she'd done it for him. Not for her.

"Does it feel the same?" Edward asked softly, breathing the words against her hair. She didn't even ask how he'd known she was awake. "Does it feel like...before? With Mason?"

"I don't even know how to answer that," she said, trying to be as honest as possible. "I was so afraid last time. Just...just terrified. All the anxiety made me so sick. I was constantly throwing up. I actually lost weight during my first trimester instead of gaining it." She sighed, pushing back against him. She wanted to feel his arms firmly around her, his body hard and cold against hers. The reality of him grounded her better than almost anything else. She didn't want to remember last time. Last time had been...horrible. A nightmare beyond words. "I really can't separate the physical from the emotional - not remembering about back then. It's all just one big awful blur."

"Oh, Bella..." He held her tighter, just as she'd wished, and she relished the constriction. "It won't be like that this time," he vowed, his voice firm. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I just...this is all so new to me. It's not supposed to be possible."

 _Just my luck_ , Bella thought, unreasonably glad that Edward could not read her mind. She wasn't regretting her decision to do this for Edward, but she was still afraid.

"You can't get rid of me now," he murmured, moving his head and breathing the words delicately against her ear.

"I never wanted to," she said, delicious shivers running up and down her back. She stared into the morning light of Edward's room - the room in which he'd left her, naked and crying, months before. Really, though, she couldn't blame him for that. She still blamed herself for seducing him, not him for leaving. "I just need you to understand, Edward."

"I can't understand if you don't talk to me." He kissed the velvet shell of her ear, then drew back and let her roll to her back. She gazed at him as he propped himself up on an elbow, his expression solemn. "I can't read your mind."

"I know, and I'll try."

Edward found her hand and brought it to his lips. "I'll try, too. For all of our sakes." He released her hand and moved his palm to splay over the slight roundness of her abdomen. "It's morning, baby," he said, craning his head to speak to her stomach. "Can you tell in there?"

"It's a little jellybean right now, Edward," Bella said, doing her best to smile at him. "It can't hear you."

He raised his head, and the intense expression in his gold eyes took her breath away. "My son or daughter," he informed her, "is  _not_  a jellybean."

"Tadpole, then."

That only made him scowl more.

"Well, it's true. I've seen pictures. At ten weeks it barely even looks human, Edward."

"You're wonderful in biology, you know," he grumbled. "Only a scientist could make a miracle like this into something so pedestrian."

"Carlisle's a scientist."

Edward grimaced, drawing her back against him. "And he'll probably want to poke and prod at you for the next seven months until you're ready to scream."

Bella relaxed into the mattress as she thought. "You know," she said slowly, "since this baby is part vampire, there's no certainty gestation will last the typical nine months."

Edward groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder, burying his face against her skin. "Don't," he warned, "say that where Alice can hear you. She'll have a nursery set up by the end of the day. Before, even."

Bella grimaced - both at the thought of Alice's flurry of shopping delight and at the prospect of gestating so quickly. She was willing to bet such an endeavor would not be pleasant at all. "I think I'm voting for the usual time frame," she said quickly. "That is, if my opinion on the matter is good for anything."

Edward chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You're the boss now, Bella, sweetheart. I tried doing things my way, and it turned into a mess. Now we do things your way. I'm afraid, though, that this little one may have other ideas."

"I'm well aware." Bella felt her stomach rumble, and she decided it was time to get up and face the rest of the family. She needed food, and while she enjoyed cuddling with Edward, it felt like she was putting off something that needed to be done.

Then it hit her. She was putting something off. Something she'd forgotten in the emotions of last night.

Mason. Mason was here with Rosalie and Emmett. And for the first real time - the first time that counted for anything - she was going to have to face him.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

"I'm going to kill Edward," Rosalie muttered. "I'm going to string him up by his  _ears_  and rip him to pieces. And then—"

"Easy, mama bear," Emmett said, rubbing her arms. "Nobody knew that this could happen. You can't blame Edward."

"Oh, I think I can," she growled, pulling away from her husband's comforting hands. "He shouldn't have touched her in the first place. I don't  _care_  that he didn't know he'd get her pregnant. I don't  _care_  that it was unintentional. That girl is too broken right now to handle this, and it's not fair to ask her to try."

"Rosalie, honey," Esme said quietly, "why don't we let Bella decide what she can and can't handle?"

"Besides," Alice added, bouncing Mason against her hip, "you like babies."

"Of course I do. But that doesn't mean Bella should have any more. Not the way she is, not with how she feels about Mason."

"This could be a new start for her," Alice said gently. "As much as I wish she was able to be Mason's mother, maybe this new baby will be what she needs. One that wasn't conceived in rape. One that she can choose to love without that sort of baggage."

"Her new start," Rose growled, "should have been as a free young woman, not tied down by yet another baby she might not even want!"

"Keep your voice down," Carlisle said, flicking his eyes toward his eldest daughter. "Bella is still sleeping. She needs her rest; I won't have you waking her up."

"She's confused right now." Esme dropped to the couch next to her husband. "She doesn't know how she feels, and I think we need to give her and Edward the time to figure that out on their own. There's always the possibility she might not want to go through with this pregnancy, I suppose, and that's her choice to make."

"I hate to say it," Rose said, "but that might be the healthiest choice for her. Edward's not even human. Who knows what kind of  _thing_  could be growing inside her?"

"I'm not thrilled about that aspect either," Carlisle admitted. "But ultimately, it's her choice. Hers and Edward's. We have to trust that they'll take all of the myriad risks into consideration before making their decision."

A loud scoff was Rosalie's immediate answer. "Edward isn't rational when it comes to Bella. And that girl doesn't know how to make decisions for herself—you know she doesn't. Whatever Edward decides, she'll do, just because he wants her to."

"Have a little faith, Rose," Esme said, taking the baby from Alice. They hadn't even been separated by a full day, but she still missed her grandson. Though she was eternally grateful to Edward to have the chance to see Bella first. That sacrifice was one of the things that gave her hope—made her believe that Edward had learned something from this whole mess. He was not normally an improvident person, but neither was he terribly patient, or used to not getting his way. Bella had challenged those aspects of his personality, though Esme knew full well that the girl hadn't done it on purpose. She was good for him, though, regardless of her motives or lack thereof. She pushed him to be a better person, and she gave him something to care about when his whole vampire existence had been largely one of ennui.

"Faith?" Rosalie raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes, faith," Esme said, smiling a little at her daughter. "Bella's had a lot of time to think lately. To learn and grow. We've been tutoring her, teaching her, albeit from afar, and Alice has been with her now for weeks. She might just surprise you."

"A couple of months is like the blink of an eye," Rose argued. "I want Bella to be better—stronger. I really do. But I just don't think she's had enough time to really be able to deal with this. She's still just a child."

"But she's growing up fast," Alice said, making funny faces at Mason, cradled in Esme's arms. "I think she's doing great."

"Doing great, or doing great  _all things considered_? Those are two very different concepts."

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Jasper asked, speaking up for the first time in the conversation. "When she gets up, ask her."

"I will," Rose said. "She and I are going to have a  _long_  talk about everything."

Muffled noises from the floor above—creaks and pops of the old wooden structure that even a human could easily hear—alerted the family to the presence of Bella and Edward. Both Alice and Esme raised their eyes to the ceiling, watching the invisible, audible tread of footsteps above them.

"If she's been crying..." Rose muttered.

"Hush," Alice said, swatting at her sister's arm. "She's pregnant, Rose. It's entirely possible she's been crying and it's not Edward's fault."

The steps moved to the staircase before Rose could state that the entire mess was Edward's fault in the first place, and they watched the stairs carefully as Edward and Bella descended at human speed, his hand clasped firmly around hers.

"Bella!" Emmett boomed, and he moved forward to snatch her out of Edward's grasp. His brother looked less than pleased, but Bella did not tense against him as he swung her around once before depositing her back on the floor.

And then her eyes met Esme's.

The entire room tensed, falling silent as the scared little girl they'd taken into their hearts came face-to-face with the baby she'd given away—the baby no one knew if she'd be able to accept back into her life.

Rosalie watched with her sharp yellow eyes, wishing she could either touch Bella's shoulder in sympathy or hold her son. But Esme had the baby, and Edward's hands were on Bella's shoulders, lending her the support of his presence in case she needed it.

Bella looked better than she had the last time Rose saw her. She looked like she'd gained a little weight, though she could certainly stand to put on more. Her skin was still pale, but there was an underlying pinkness to her that hadn't been there before, a much healthier color than the sickly white she'd been while living with her father.

There was a small glimmer in her eyes, too, a soft sparkle to the velvet darkness, and Rose knew full well that that was new. She didn't like how this all had happened—Edward's kidnapping of the girl, and her subsequent confinement in Britain—but Rose wasn't too proud to admit that Bella looked better. More alive than she'd ever seen her before. She was grumpy enough to want to believe this had more to do with Alice and the enforced separation from her father than with Edward, but none of that really mattered anymore, she supposed. They were all back together again, and everything else could wait.

Bella's dark eyes were riveted to the baby Esme held. He was big—nine months old, fat and healthy—and he chuckled to himself, one finger in his mouth, as she watched him from across the room.

She took a slow step forward, then another, watching him carefully. Edward stayed at her back, moving with her, never letting go. She was glad of his cool hands on her shoulders, his solid presence at her back. If she gave one hint of distress, she knew he'd have her out of the room before she could blink.

But the truth was...Mason wasn't frightening. Not really. She looked at him closely, making her way slowly toward Esme and the rest of the family. He was a baby—nothing more, nothing less. He didn't look like he had in the hospital, tiny and oddly-shaped, red and messy. He didn't look like he had months before when she brought him to the Cullens, either, though she had to admit that she had been exhausted and in a great deal of pain that day. Her memories were vague at best. Now as she looked at him...he looked just like any other big, dark-haired baby to her. He didn't look like her, nor did he really look like the man who had brutally raped her; he looked like a baby. She thought about it, trying to examine her emotions as she leaned back into Edward's comforting bulk. He slipped his arms around her, firm and cool, and she nestled into the long sleeves of his thermal shirt.

"Are you all right?" he asked carefully, murmuring the words into her ear.

Was she? Bella considered. She was...she didn't know. After all the fear, all the questions, this meeting with the child she'd given up felt rather anticlimactic. Mason wasn't frightening.

But, then, neither was he terribly appealing to her, either. She did not want to hold him. She did not want to touch him, or even get all that close to him. His presence did not frighten her or make her uncomfortable as she'd feared, but that was all. She felt...not nothing, but not anything she'd expected.

"Bella?" Esme prompted, her voice soft and gentle. "Do you want to hold him?"

Bella shook her head. No, she did not want that. He could stay—his presence wasn't a problem. She was still glad that she had rescued him from limbo in the system, and that she had given to Rosalie and Emmett something they clearly wanted. The Cullens were the best family she'd ever known, and she was happy to share that. But she did not need or want him any closer.

"Talk to us, babe," Rose prodded, stepping forward. She ignored the warning flash in Edward's gold eyes, reaching forward and taking Bella's hand. It was warm and soft—a normal human hand. But Bella squeezed back, her eyes finally leaving the baby and instead finding Rose.

And then, she smiled.

It was a beautiful sight. Rosalie smiled back, tugged lightly on the soft hand in hers, and Bella stepped forward to be hugged.

"I missed you," Bella said, wrapping her arms around her tall blond sister.

"You too, babe." Rosalie squeezed lightly, as hard as she dared with her vampire strength. She heard it plainly, what both Esme and Alice had described—the beat of another heart, a tiny one, inside Bella's body. The baby was human enough to have a heart to beat, at least. That was something.

"We're going to have a long talk, you and me," Rose said, finally releasing her.

"I figured." Bella smiled up at her, the gesture almost automatic, only a shade of her native hesitancy showing through. "You always know what to say."

"Finding things to say is  _never_  a problem with me," Rosalie agreed. "Are you okay, Bella? How do you feel about..."

"He can stay," Bella said, moving back into the comforting grip of Edward's arms. "But I don't want to hold him."

"No one here will make you do anything you don't want to do," Edward soothed, glancing meaningfully at Rose, though she had absolutely no intention of doing so. It was far too much to ask, she supposed, for Bella to suddenly want to be part of Mason's life, like an aunt or the birth mother she really was. It would take time, and she might never get to a point where she could play with him as freely as Alice or Esme did. And that was okay. After everything she'd been through, she was really doing remarkably well.

"Let's get you some breakfast," Edward suggested. "Then we can see about everything else."

"What about the black pudding, Carlisle?" Alice asked, glancing between Bella and their father. "Is it okay for her to be eating so much of it?"

Bella turned to look warily at Carlisle, her mouth slightly open, shrinking against Edward.

"Don't fret, sweetheart," the blond doctor said, smiling in reassurance. "You're not in any trouble. As for the question—your body probably knows better than I do what it needs. If black pudding is what it wants, I see no reason to deny it. My suggestion is to make sure you get enough other nutrients as well—whole grains and vegetables. Though, remembering what you told me about your childhood food habits, that shouldn't be a problem."

Bella blushed, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink, and ducked her head into Edward's shoulder. He tightened his arms, touching a hand gently to her heated cheek.

Carlisle chuckled, amused at his youngest daughter's reaction, and took the baby from Esme's arms. "I'm glad to see that hasn't changed."

Mercifully, Edward pulled her gently out of the room, heading toward the kitchen. "What's this about black pudding?" he asked, a note of worry entering his voice. He scanned the thoughts of his family as he waited for Bella's voiced answer, seeing Bella's penchant for the food in Alice's thoughts, and her worry about what that meant.

"I like it," she said, a note of defensiveness creeping into her voice. "It makes my stomach feel better."

"How?" he prodded, not stopping her as she entered the walk-in refrigerator to retrieve a pudding. "Do you feel unwell?"

"Not really," she said, rummaging for brown bread to appease Carlisle. "Sometimes I get a little queasy when I try to eat other things. I just assumed I'd found a good cure for morning sickness until Alice told me what was in it." She sighed slightly, digging out a clean frying pan and lighting the stove. "I didn't even think about it until then, but now it makes sense."

"I don't like this," Edward said uneasily. "The baby's obviously doing something to you."

"The  _baby_  isn't," Bella argued, popping slices of bread in a toaster—courtesy of Alice—and rummaging for a plate as the pudding heated on the stove. "And pregnancy does things to every woman; that's just the way it is."

She was right, too. Edward couldn't fault her logic. Her craving at least made sense, considering what she was carrying. "Tell me if you hurt, or if anything feels off," he pleaded. He couldn't force her to do anything; he was done even trying. That road ended in disaster and he wasn't going to attempt it again. Whatever Bella wanted, she was going to get. If that meant stifling his fears for now, since there were no obvious signs that the pregnancy was actually hurting her, he would do it. She deserved the world, and while he couldn't give her that, he was going to do his best to be whatever she most needed.

"Bella," Esme called, "when you're done, let's see if we can't wrestle this house into a more livable condition, shall we?"

Edward hid a smile at Bella's surprised expression—probably at hearing his sweet, unassuming mother use a word like "wrestle." "Okay," she said softly, knowing keen vampire ears would hear her without the need to yell.

"You don't have to," Edward said carefully, hoping to remind her without causing irritation. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"I like helping," she said, turning the pudding in the pan. "It's okay, Edward."

"I just want you to feel comfortable saying no if you need to. It's been hard for you in the past."

"I know," she agreed, "and I appreciate it. But I'm okay, really. I love Esme." The wistful look on his face made her add, "And I love you, too."

His well-loved face creased into a smile, and he said, "I will never, ever get tired of hearing you say that."

* * *

To Bella's surprise, "wrestling" the house into shape did not, at least at first, mean attacking it as Alice had done. During their time at Ellison House, Alice had battled the old structure like a head of unruly hair badly in need of a makeover. The battle was epic and at times humorous as both girls were nearly equally clueless about what they were doing. More than once Alice had killed the electricity or broken some important-looking part of the architecture because she waded in with no real understanding of the task.

Esme, however, went about things completely differently.

First, she dug around in the library, praising Bella's cataloguing skills profusely, until she found crumbling, centuries-old plans of the grand manor house. Then, with deft movements too swift for Bella to really follow, she transferred the old plans to fresh blueprint paper, each floor of the house on a separate sheet, labeling some of the rooms, like Bella's library, as she went. Bella was amazed, both at the vampire speed and at the knowledge and skill it took to undertake what Esme was doing. She asked for input, the family hovering around the plans and suggesting which rooms might fit various purposes best. It was clear very quickly that this would be no small task—the Cullens, as Bella was rapidly learning, did not do things halfway. Now that they were ensconced at Ellison House, they planed to make it shine.

A set of connecting rooms in the west wing of the house was labeled as perfect for Emmett, Rose, and the baby, once they went and looked for themselves to make sure the old plans matched what was actually there. Centuries of life and then near abandonment meant that almost anything could have happened to the property, and nothing on paper would be trusted until it was confirmed in flesh.

Bella was adamant that she did not want to go back to "her" room, and no one argued with her. A flash of pain stole over Edward's face when she asked in a small voice not to be put back there, but he didn't argue.

"No one will make you do anything you don't want to," he promised. "No one, Bella."

It seemed to be his mantra, as he repeated the words so often, sometimes to her, sometimes to himself. She could see the effort, and how he ached at times to do or provide for her. It touched her more than any other gesture possibly could. He had learned from their enforced separation, and he was trying his best to do what she said she wanted. When afternoon came, he looked toward the big galley kitchen, but he did not insist she eat, nor did he attempt to prepare a meal for her, as he had done so many times, to her displeasure, when he first brought her here. For her part, Bella found herself more willing to do the things she knew she should, when no one was sitting there forcing her.

"Can't I just stay in the library?" Bella asked wistfully when Esme asked if there was a different room she preferred. Alice had agreed that she and Jasper would gladly take over Bella's old room, since she didn't want it anymore. It was one of the few rooms Edward had cleaned and readied when he first arrived, and therefore one of the best in the house.

The fact that most of the house was not wired for electricity would change very quickly, Esme said, and Bella did not dare disbelieve her when she spoke so firmly. Soon the whole house would be adequately lighted, heated, and plumbed. At first Bella wondered what kind of a stir that sort of human construction crew would cause in town, but it quickly became clear that Esme intended the family to do most, if not all, of the work themselves. Alice was effectively useless except where her gift could shave off hours of problem solving—she had neither the head nor the patience for technical work. But Rosalie was mechanically minded, Jasper and Carlisle both thorough and detail-oriented, Emmett eager to please as long as Esme gave him one clear task at a time, and Edward seemed to want only to make Bella happy. If that meant family time working on the old house, he was more than willing to participate.

So Alice and Emmett took turns minding the baby, and the rest of the family waded into the work calmly, as if a major reconstruction project was just another Tuesday night in the Cullen household. Bella supposed that, after having lived so long, such things probably did not seem as daunting to them as they did to her.

Esme commandeered Bella as her assistant, which Bella appreciated more than she could express. It made her feel at least marginally useful, since her human speed and strength could not match her new family members. She curled up close to Esme on the displaced furniture from Alice's art studio, now center of operations for the remodeling effort. A laptop computer hooked up to its own network card was Bella's designated workstation, as she slowly went down the list of materials Esme had compiled, searching online for the best deals.

"Why didn't Alice volunteer for the shopping job?" she asked, trying not to feel too appalled at the amount of money being spent on lumber, wire, piping, and the like. If she knew the exact exchange rate, she suspected she'd feel even more aghast.

Esme chuckled, reaching out and smoothing a gentle hand down Bella's dark hair. "You'd think she'd be jumping at the chance to spend money," she agreed, "but this sort of shopping doesn't interest her."

No doubt having heard the entire conversation, Alice bounced into the room, Mason tucked against her hip. "Construction materials are  _boring_ ," she said, making a face as she drew out the vowels in the last word. "You could not  _pay_  me enough to willingly walk into a Home Depot!"

Bella, who had always secretly rather liked home improvement shows on television, only smiled. "It's interesting to see how it all works," she said. "Putting the pieces together to get a unified whole."

"Exactly how I feel," Esme said, beaming at her youngest daughter. "And how Rose feels about cars. It's like a puzzle, but a puzzle you need some expert knowledge to put together."

"I don't know anything about remodeling," Bella admitted shyly. "But I'd like to learn."

"Then learn you shall," Esme said with a smile. "The best way to learn is by doing, so this is a fabulous opportunity."

"What about schoolwork?" Bella asked hesitantly. She was caught up in her video lessons, but now her teachers were here with her, she assumed they'd want to start teaching her in person.

"I think," Esme said, "that since regular schoolchildren get a break over Christmas, you should, too."

Bella nodded slightly. She really didn't care one way or another what they did—they could pile all the homework on her they wanted, just as long as they were here with her. She'd missed them terribly, and while Alice was a cheerful boon to her feelings, she had to admit that having the whole family back was what she'd really wanted.

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly, raising big dark eyes a little shyly to Esme.

"Oh, baby, me, too," their mother figure said. "So glad. You know we missed you."

"I missed you, too," Bella said. "It wasn't fun, but I think I learned some things."

"Then it was worth it," Esme said decisively. "No more fretting about the past, sweetheart. We have a whole future to look forward to now."

"Are you going away again?"

The words were quiet, and Bella glanced down at her clenched hands, unable to hold eye contact. She didn't really care where they lived—here, back in Forks, or somewhere entirely new—just as long as she was allowed to stay with the family. She did not want to be alone again, even with a member of the family to act as her babysitter.

"We do have to go back," Esme said softly, but she reached out and placed her hands over Bella's clenched ones, soothing the tight, anxious muscles. "But we're not abandoning you. When we leave, you'll come with us."

Bella relaxed, feeling the tense muscles in her back and shoulders loosen. That was all the reassurance she needed. Esme would never lie to her, and if she promised that Bella would stay with the family now, she could do nothing but believe her.

"Now," Esme said, "why don't we get back to work?"

* * *

Rosalie stole Bella in the evening, luring her from her post with a takeout meal from the chip shop in town. Bella had never been much for deep-fried food—her mother's early lessons on dietary habits ran too deep—but, whether it was the pregnancy or some other unknown factor, for some reason she savored the greasy meal. Rose had even brought her soda, a rare treat, and Bella sipped slowly on the bubbly drink as they sat companionably in the huge kitchen, just the two of them.

"I want to ask you something," Rose said finally.

Bella smiled. "I had a feeling you didn't steal me just to feed me things I shouldn't have."

"Once in a while won't hurt you," Rose said with a shrug, and she settled herself more comfortably in her hard wooden chair. "Bella, this pregnancy...I'm worried about you."

"Why?"

"I'm worried you might be going along with it for the wrong reasons." Rosalie had never been one to beat around the bush, and she certainly wasn't planning to start now. "Can you tell me how you feel—what you want? You know you don't have to go through with it, right?"

Bella flushed, biting her lip and looking down at the styrofoam container her dinner had been in. Leave it to Rose to get straight to the point without beating around the bush. Esme had asked a similar question, but she hadn't been so direct about it. Faced with Rosalie's uncompromising forthrightness, though, it was impossible to hedge or tell less than the truth.

"I know," she said softly, chewing raggedly on her lower lip. "Edward told me I didn't have to, but even if he hadn't said anything, I know it's my body and my decision, not his."

"That's a small relief, anyway." Rosalie cocked her head to the side. "So, what's your decision?"

"I'm going to do this." Bella took a breath, feeling the cool air slide deep into her lungs, expanding her belly as she breathed. "I'm going to see it through."

"That's not the same thing as wanting the baby," Rose said archly. "Bella, honey, this isn't something you should do out of some misguided attempt at becoming an adult, or righting the wrongs of the past. This isn't some...some coming-of-age ritual that will magically make all your bad memories disappear. It's a living, breathing baby, and it will need love and care. Parents and a family who love it. I'm not saying you're incapable. In fact, I honestly think rather the opposite. You have so much love to give, and Edward's a luckier bastard than he deserves, getting you as his mate." She grinned devilishly at the pink blush that lit Bella's cheeks, as she'd been expecting that reaction. "But I truly believe this is something you have to do for the right reasons—because you want the baby for him or herself, for the person he or she is going to grow up to be."

Bella bit back a soft sigh as she traced a little spill of salt across the old wooden table. Its surface was rough, pitted with old knife marks—how many meals, she wondered, had been prepared here? Loaves of bread sliced, chickens and turkeys carved, fish de-boned? Apples peeled—maybe for pies. Although apple pie was an American thing, wasn't it? She frowned slightly. Her time in this country had been very sheltered, and she admitted that she knew very little about it even now.

And Rosalie was right, after all. If she was going to have another baby, she needed to do it for the right reasons. Her parents had not wanted her, not really; their actions all through her childhood proved that much. If there was even the slightest chance a child of hers might end up in the same situation, she wouldn't go through with it. Abortion wasn't always a sin, as she'd told Jacob, and she felt it would be far kinder than subjecting an innocent life to the childhood she'd had to endure. Adoption probably wasn't an option, what with the strange hybrid nature of the baby in question—if it turned out to have any vampire characteristics at all, which it most likely would, giving it to an unsuspecting human family was absolutely unthinkable.

With Mason, she'd had no choice. Hurt and terrified, she'd wanted to do whatever was necessary to sweep the whole mess under the rug. It was a natural reaction to bad experiences, a psychology book in the library had told her. But her father had not allowed it. He had insisted that she carry the child to term, and then had placed him in legal limbo to ensure that he always had control over her. Once he was born, Bella's abiding wish had been to give Mason a happy home, to let a loving family adopt him since she knew she could never be the mother he needed. Then when she met the Cullens and saw how desperately Rosalie wanted a child, and how nurturing the whole family was...she'd wanted that for him—the exact opposite of her life shuttled between Renee and Charlie, silent and frightened, not really understanding what it was to be truly happy. She'd been willing to give up the Cullens so Mason could have them, never imagining this outcome: that they could share them, both becoming members of a sweet, loving family with hearts, however unbeating, big enough to love them both.

But her situation with Mason was so different than with this new child. The child growing inside her was not the product of rape. She had not been forced or coerced, and what's more, she loved her baby's father. They'd been through a mess of trouble, but Edward loved her and he wasn't going anywhere. He'd promised her, and she couldn't help but believe him when he looked at her with that shimmering light in his clear golden eyes. Edward loved her, and he wanted this baby. She had agreed to have it more for his sake than anything else, but it didn't feel like a sacrifice. Edward would never let his son or daughter suffer as so many children in this world did. He or she would never be hungry or cold—would want for nothing, especially love. To her mind, it didn't altogether matter that Edward was the primary reason for her decision. She couldn't know how she would feel about trying to be a mother until the baby came, and if she found that she could not be as good a mother as she was sure Edward would be a father, well, the rest of the Cullen family would gladly take up the slack. Though, she hoped, there would never be too much slack in need of rectifying. She'd grown up with both a neglectful parent and an overbearing one, and she well remembered how both extremes felt. How she yearned for boundaries and expectations with Renee, and to escape Charlie's notice. She'd been hit and physically hurt by her father for so long, and she knew for a fact that she could never then turn around and do the same to a child of her own. Yes, she knew that many abusers were themselves hurt as children, but that didn't mean she had to follow the pattern, and she  _refused_  to do so.

"Talk to me," Rosalie urged, touching Bella's cheek lightly with two fingers. "Tell me what you're feeling."

Bella chewed on her lip, trying to find the words. It wouldn't work just to tell Rose that she was happy to do this for Edward; that wouldn't go over well. And to tell her sister that she really didn't care about anything else as long as she got to keep the Cullens and call them her family—well, that probably wouldn't fly, either. Esme might accept it, or Carlisle, or even Alice. But Rosalie was all about personal choice, and she would not take kindly to the idea that Bella didn't feel compelled one way or another about this.

"I'm...okay," Bella said finally, wishing fervently for Edward in that moment. He seemed to sense when she was uncomfortable, and was more than willing to remove her from situations she did not want. It was one aspect of his heavy-handedness that she did not at all mind. But he was currently up on the roof with Carlisle and Emmett, and she didn't think they'd be down anytime soon.

"What does that mean?" Rosalie prompted. "Babe, I'm not trying to put you on the spot. I know you're uncomfortable talking. But I want you to understand that this is a huge decision, and I want you to make it for the right reasons. Oh, Bella." She shook her head, a small smile playing across her face. "You're so young. You could do anything—literally  _anything—_ with your life. You know that, right? Go to any college you want, study anything. Or travel, or find a job you love...whatever you desire. You don't need to be tied down by a child if that isn't what you want."

"I want Edward," Bella said quietly. "I want to be part of this family." Before she'd met the Cullens, her single life goal had been very simple—to survive, hopefully long enough to someday be free of Charlie. Now, everything was different. She'd been shown a taste of a true, loving family, and she wanted it desperately. Needed it, perhaps, even. She wanted Esme's maternal hugs, and Rose's no-nonsense talks. Alice's whimsy. Carlisle's patience. Emmett's and Jasper's special brands of brotherliness.

And Edward's love.

"I want all of you," she said, knowing she wasn't being very clear but honestly not knowing how else to say it. "I want to make you happy, and be happy, too. That's all I want—all I need."

Rose sat back, watching her newest sister carefully. Bella's words told her very clearly that she wasn't all healed from the emotional damage that her parents had done to her. But, really, a few short months wasn't nearly enough time to expect it. Right now, Bella felt safe. It was completely natural for her to want to bask in that feeling, to want to do nothing to upset the status quo. Now wasn't the time to push her, to insist that she start making plans for the future. She needed this time to be safe and secure in the warmth of a loving family, to start feeling her way toward her own personality, her own wants and needs, her own sense of self.

Realistically, the timing of this pregnancy could have been worse, but it was by no means optimal. Bella would go through with it because Edward wanted the baby and she knew the rest of the family did, too. And that would have to be good enough for now. In time, her own emotions would begin to surface, Rosalie hoped. It was just too much to ask for Bella to be able to articulate them now. Hopefully as she healed, she would be better able to do what Rose asked. And hopefully she would be able to embrace this new pregnancy of her own volition, accepting and loving it for her own sake as well as Edward's. Time, Rosalie thought as she let the matter drop, steering the conversation toward safer topics. She, and everyone else, had to give Bella time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fiction is not the place to stage a polemic, so I am not attempting to influence anyone's opinion about abortion. The issue comes up in this chapter because it comes up in canon, and that's all there is to it. Even though I've pretty much messed with all the characters' canon reactions to Bella's pregnancy, lol!


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

"She's sleeping," Edward said, a low-voiced warning as Rosalie entered the library. A fire crackled, warm and golden, in the fireplace, and Bella was bundled in a welter of blankets on her air mattress. Edward sat next to her, on the floor so as not to disrupt her sleep. His hand stroked gently through the soft length of her dark hair. There was a peace to him, Rosalie thought, that she hadn't seen before. Not even when Bella was living with their family the first time. There had always been questions—uncertainties about Bella's feelings, her future, and what she would ultimately decide to do. Now, though, everything was different. She had committed to Edward and the entire Cullen family, and though Rosalie knew there would still be problems, it looked like the biggest uncertainties were over. Bella was Edward's mate, and she had embraced that fact.

"I'm not going to disturb her," Rose said, her voice equally low, speaking in a register Bella's human ears would not pick up, even were she awake.

"Bella and Alice established that the library is a no-arguing zone," Edward murmured. "I won't break that pact."

"I'm not asking you to." Rosalie settled in a chair near the fire. Though she did not feel cold as humans did, the heat was welcome against her frozen skin. "I need to know what you plan to do about the baby."

Edward scowled. "What business is it of yours?"

Rose scowled back. She could be just as difficult as Edward when she chose to, and she wasn't in the mood to put up with his emo sensibilities right now. "Bella is my sister," she said, "and that makes her my business. She's part of this family, which makes her my business. Edward, I know the choice is hers to make, but that doesn't negate the problems this pregnancy brings up, or the fact that she's severely emotionally fucked up. How can you possibly know that she's making this choice for the right reasons?"

"And what are the wrong reasons?" Edward shot back, just as quietly. He stroked Bella's hair gently, his hand threading through the silken strands. "You're acting like I don't have her best interests at heart. Guess what—I do."

"Nobody has  _ever_  questioned your motives," Rose snapped. "Not even me. It's the execution thereof that you have trouble with."

Edward sighed, tugging on his own hair with the hand that wasn't softly woven through Bella's. "She's my  _life_ , Rose. My world. I wouldn't do anything to harm her. If this is what she wants to do, I won't get in her way."

"That's not a good enough answer, and you know it." Rose cocked her head to the side. "What do you want, Edward? If it were up to you?"

"It's not up to me, now is it?" He ignored her steady gaze, instead choosing to watch Bella sleep. She was beautiful—rosy-cheeked in the warm room, one hand resting next to her head, her lips slightly open and pouted. The most beautiful thing that had ever come into his world. Every action he had taken since meeting her, every choice he'd made, had been with the intent of keeping her safe, and keeping her near him. But those choices had turned out to have disastrous consequences for everyone involved. By taking Bella's options away from her, he was denying her the chance to learn and grow, to meet life's obstacles as a fully realized person, separate from himself. It wasn't a welcome realization, but it was one he could now recognize as extremely important. Bella was not a trophy to be kept in a cage, was not some fragile object. She was her own person, and if he was going to enter into a relationship with a young woman from this era, he was going to have to do so by the rules of  _her_  time, not his. Girlfriends and wives were not property anymore. He would lose her if he attempted to treat her as such.

"But if it was," Rosalie prodded, as if poking a physical bruise with some sort of sick fascination. "If it was your choice alone—if it were solely up to you. What would you choose?"

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. How ridiculous was it, he wondered, that they no longer had blood vessels and sinuses to swell and throb, yet they still felt as if it were so? Rosalie's questions, as usual, hit far too close to home, probing areas of uncomfortable sensation that he would far rather ignore. Because the truth was, he wanted that baby. This thing he and Bella had created, this marvel of a miracle, the one thing he felt sure he could never, ever have. He  _wanted_  his child. And maybe that showed the crack in the cup, the proof that he was not a normal seventeen-year-old male locked in permanent stasis. Parts of him had grown and matured—couldn't help  _but—_ in the century he'd been alive. That frightened, confused teenager dying of a virulent disease would always be a part of him, but he wasn't the same person he had been eighty years ago. Not even close.

"I want this," he said quietly, still studiously avoiding Rosalie's eyes. "I want this, Rose, and you can't blame me for that."

"I don't blame you." His sister's voice was soft—perhaps softer than he'd ever heard it before. There was no threat below the words, no insinuation of fault. It took Edward a little by surprise. "I'm not an idiot. I know how it feels—we all do. The yearning. The urge to parent doesn't go away just because we are physically changed. If there were any way I could have a child of my own, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Mason—now that he's mine, I'm not giving him up." Her tone turned hard, stony—something he was much more used to hearing from Rosalie. "If anyone tries to take him, Charlie or the state, Emmett and I will leave. We'll go into hiding—whatever we have to do to keep him. So don't try to act like I don't understand. I just want to make sure you understand that Bella isn't making this choice because she wants to. She's making it because she  _knows_  you want her to."

"You think I don't know that?" Edward chuckled humorlessly. "I can't read her thoughts, but in this case, I don't have to. She's part of me." He ran a fingertip slowly across her cheek, feathering his touch over the porcelain seashell of her ear. "I know she doesn't want this baby as much as I do. I know she's keeping it because she knows that's what the rest of the family wants. I just..."

"You just what?" Rose asked, watching as her brother traced his fingers along the delicate contours of the girl's face. The fact that he adored her was crystal clear; that was never the question. He was remarkably childish sometimes and at others ridiculously idiotic, but his love was never in question.

"I think...I think she can learn to love it," Edward said finally. "Mason—probably not, and she seems more or less okay with the fact that she's never going to be his mother. But this child is  _ours_. It wasn't conceived in violence, and Bella knows how much I love her. She knows I'd never leave her."

"And yet, you did."

Edward grimaced as if in pain. "No," he whispered. "I never intended to leave her. I needed to clear my head, and I was going to come home and send someone else to try to talk to her since she didn't want me anywhere near her. I wasn't abandoning her. I could never do that. It nearly killed me to obey Carlisle's orders and keep away while Alice stayed with her."

"Does  _she_  know that?"

Edward nodded slowly. "I think so. I hope so." He cracked a small smile. "I know it might be strange, but...I think letting her do this might be good for her. I spoke to Esme, and she agrees."

"How so?"

"She feels indebted to the family, and nothing we say has really made a difference with that. She feels like a burden, like we're constantly doing things for her and she's not doing things for us in return."

Rosalie nodded. Yes, that was Bella. Carrying around immense amounts of guilt for things she shouldn't.

"When she gave you Mason, I think it made her happy. It made her feel like she was doing something for the family—giving back, in a way. But this...this cements her to us in a more binding sort of way. She and I, we're going to share a child. Something that's part her and part me, something the whole family can love as  _ours_." He smiled, the gesture spreading almost hesitantly across his face. "It's not so much  _her_  doing something for  _us_ , or vice versa, but more of a symbolic gesture that ties us together forever."

It made sense and, put that way, Edward and Esme's idea had merit. If this child was able to make Bella see herself as truly one of the family rather than a charity case, that was all to the good. And Bella would be spoiled rotten—as much as she would let herself be—while she was pregnant; that went without saying. Whatever horrors her previous pregnancy held, it would be nothing like this one. Rosalie was confident Bella wouldn't have to lift a finger for the next few months if she didn't want to.

"Okay," she said.

Edward blinked. "Okay?"

"Yep." Rosalie grinned when he turned his golden eyes toward her, blinking uncertainly. "Okay."

"Does that mean you're not going to fight this anymore?" he asked suspiciously.

"I wasn't fighting in the first place, Edward," she said, rolling her eyes as she stood. "Bella is my sister, and no one— _no one—_ messes with my family. You know that. I'm going to be watching, Edward. As long as she's happy, I have no reason to stick my nose in her business. But you hurt her, and you'll have to answer to me."

"No worries," Edward said, turning back to the sleeping girl on the air mattress. "If I hurt her, you're the least of my problems. I'll have to answer to Esme."

* * *

Bella woke to a dull red glow from the embers of the fire, stretching languidly beneath a large pile of blankets. Really, it was a big excessive, but Edward had been adamant about keeping her warm and she didn't have the heart to argue with him. His care and concern were a welcome balm to the long years of loneliness in her childhood, as long as he wasn't being overbearing and ignoring her wishes.

She did not care for the dark red light in the library, however, and she grimaced as she curled up tighter in a small ball under the blankets. Why wasn't Edward with her? He didn't like to leave her while she slept. Maybe he was hunting?

Strange squealing noises echoed down the corridor and Bella winced, hugging the blankets close to her body as she listened. Did no one else hear that? They didn't sleep and their senses were far superior to hers, so surely they did. She turned over on her mattress, but facing away from the dying fire was even worse—dark black and crimson striped the bookcases, like the last, deepest drops of heart's blood, and the colors shifted eerily as the embers popped and settled.

Bella  _knew_  the reason for the colors and shifting shadows. She wasn't stupid. But all the same, the darkness and the screeching noises were beyond unnerving. The upper story of the room was a cavern of darkness above her, and Bella whimpered quietly when she made the mistake of staring up into that blackness.

The reasonable thing to do, of course, she thought as she grasped the blankets tightly in her fists, would be to leave the room and find one of the Cullens. They were here with her now, after all. They were her family, and they also happened to be vampires. They would keep her safe.

But she was frozen stiff with fear, her body breaking out in cold, unnatural sweat as she listened to the squealing, screeching noises. They were definitely coming from inside the house, but she had no idea what they could possibly be. Nothing human could make that noise, nor had she ever heard it from a vampire, either.

A loud pop from a collapsing ember propelled Bella out of bed, and an instant later she had thrown open the library doors, padding quickly down the hall to the kitchen, where she knew there would be light.

Esme was there with the laptop, and she looked up in surprise when Bella slipped into the room.

"Honey," she said quickly, "baby, what's wrong?"

Bella shook her head slightly, but she did not refuse when Esme pulled up a chair invitingly close. She padded over, tucking her knees up under the wide fall of her nightgown, ignoring her shivering toes. Esme tucked an arm around her and hugged her gently.

"Are you okay?" she asked again, brushing some wayward hair out of Bella's face.

Bella nodded, resting her head on Esme's shoulder, but the vampire could feel her elevated heart rate and smell the scent of fear lingering in the air.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Bella shrugged. She didn't really know what had woken her. It could have been a bad dream, or it could have been those awful noises. Once again a long screech echoed through the house, and she flinched against Esme's side.

"Oh," Esme said in understanding, and she hugged Bella close. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm afraid we didn't even think about the noise." She sounded repentant. "The boys are taking apart some of the old plumbing, getting ready to install new copper piping when it arrives." Another awful squeal rolled down the hallway, and Esme grimaced along with Bella. "Rusted metal does  _not_  make an attractive noise. Let me just run up to tell them to stop-"

Bella shook her head, hanging onto Esme's cold arm until the woman stopped, settling back into her chair.

"What's the matter?" Esme asked, stroking Bella's sleep-tousled hair gently. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Stay," Bella said softly, hugging herself against the cool, comforting side of the Cullen mother figure. "Please?" She didn't want to be alone. The house was too big, and her scare tonight had brought back all the frightening fears and dreams she'd had before Alice came to keep her company. Were there really ghosts in the house? If so, were they afraid of vampires? Would her sweet, loving family keep them away? She didn't know, but Esme's presence made her feel better regardless. She had been alone in the big lonely house for far too long.

"Of course," Esme said, neither questioning Bella's need nor belittling it. "As long as you like. Just let me call Carlisle so the boys will stop that hideous noise for the night. I'm sorry, Bella—really, I am. It's so hard for us to know sometimes what human ears will and won't pick up, and Mason is sleeping all the way at the other end of the house."

Bella nestled against Esme's side, chilly but content. She wasn't angry at them for making noise—this was  _their_  house, after all. They didn't sleep, so it was only reasonable that they would work far into the night if they had a project to do. She was just happy to have them here. The house was friendlier, not as sad or menacing, with the sounds of multiple people living in it.

"Can I talk to him?" Bella asked softly, flicking her eyes up to Esme.

"Who—Carlisle?" The older woman nodded. "Of course, sweetheart. Just a moment." She had already dialed the number, and she held the phone between them as they waited for Carlisle to pick up.

"Hello, love." His voice was amused as he answered. "May I ask why you called instead of coming up here? I know you're not averse to getting a little dirty."

"Of course not," Esme said, smiling at the warm, sweet voice of her husband. "I wanted to tell you all that you can quit for the night. Our activities unfortunately woke and frightened Bella, and she came to find me."

"Does she want Edward?" Carlisle asked. "He and Jasper went for a quick hunt, but they'll be back soon. It's rather nice, having a park full of deer as our back yard."

Esme motioned for Bella to speak, and she did so only a little haltingly. "I don't need Edward," she said quietly. "I was wondering—can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Bella," Carlisle said warmly. "In fact, if you wait just a moment, I'll be right down and you can ask me in person."

She opened her mouth to tell him that wasn't necessary and he didn't need to interrupt his work for her, but before the first word was out of her mouth both Carlisle and Emmett appeared in the doorway, striding into the kitchen. Emmett looked at home covered in dirt and rust, but the distinguished Carlisle looked decidedly odd, though he seemed perfectly comfortable.

"We won't get too close," Carlisle said, preventing Emmett from taking a chair near Bella. "We found plenty of wood rot, mildew, and black mold when we started opening up the walls, and it's not safe for you to breathe. What was your question?"

Bella flushed, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as she tried to find words that didn't sound too ridiculous. "I—I was just wondering," she stammered, her ears burning with embarrassment, "whether ghosts are real? I m-mean, since you are, and all. This house just seems like the perfect haunted house, you know?"

Carlisle's chuckle, when it came, was soft and understanding. It didn't make Bella squirm—in fact, she felt soothed by the gentle sound. "Many creatures of myth and shadow are, in fact, reality," he said. "Vampires. Werewolves."

"Yeah," Bella said softly, nodding a little. From reading the diaries kept in the house, she'd learned of the Quileute wolves and the true secret Jacob must be keeping from her. Even if he were not a wolf himself, he knew about them.

"Ghosts, though—to be honest, I don't know. I've been on this Earth a long time and I've never seen one, but I suppose that isn't conclusive evidence one way or another. Rest assured, though, that even if there are ghosts roaming the world, this house isn't haunted."

"How do you know?" Bella asked softly. Just hearing Carlisle say the words settled her immensely, but she was still curious. He seemed so confident.

"Because," he said with a smile, "vampires have lived in this house off and on for generations. I lived here for a short time when I was on my own, and I brought Edward here when he was a newborn needing to gain control. No self respecting ghost would come near a place so full of the scent of vampires."

Emmett laughed just as the door to the courtyard opened and closed swiftly and two sets of too-swift footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. "And here I thought you were unfazed by things that go bump in the night," he chuckled. "Ghosts? Really, Bella."

"What's this about ghosts?" Jasper asked as he and Edward breezed into the room. Edward's eyes immediately sought and found Bella's, and she smiled at the warm, sweet feeling that trickled into her ribcage when he was near. She loved Rose and Esme as the big sister and mother figure she so desperately needed. Alice was a dear friend, Carlisle such a different father figure from Charlie, and Emmett and Jasper were like the brothers she'd never had. But Edward...with him, it was different. Their relationship was never simple, never easy, and she was willing to admit that that was as much her fault as his. There was still so much for both of them to learn. But when she was lonely or afraid and then he was there...it was as if all the bad parts of her world melted away. With him she was safe. With him, she was home.

"Bella asked if they were real," Emmett explained as Edward took a chair next to Bella. He was damp and windblown, and she watched him struggle against the urge to pull her into his arms. He would be cold—colder than usual because of the rain outside—and he refrained, though it was clear from the look in his bright topaz eyes that he wanted to. Instead, he stroked the palm of his hand down her cheek, looking into her eyes until she smiled softly and nodded at him, an assurance that she was all right. She had been afraid, but Esme and Carlisle had soothed her fears. She didn't need Edward's help for that this time, though she welcomed his presence all the same.

"Why wouldn't they be?" was Jasper's question. "We are."

"I don't care if they're real or not," Emmett said. "The point was, our Bella here sleeps with a vampire and pals around with a werewolf, and yet she ran to Esme afraid of a little ghost?" He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense, little sister."

"Is Jacob really a wolf?" Bella asked, flicking her eyes quickly to Carlisle before returning her gaze to Edward. "I remember a year or so ago he started acting weird and chopped all his hair off. I thought he was just going through puberty."

"Some puberty," Emmett said, laughing. "Your childhood pal's got a tail and whiskers, kiddo."

"How can you tell?"

"He  _reeks_ ," Emmett said, waving a hand in front of his nose as if fanning away a bad smell. "Could smell him all over your truck, and when he drove out to the house to get you."

"What do werewolves smell like?"

"Wet dog."

Of course. What else had she expected?

"Let me make you some warm milk, Bella," Esme said, getting up and patting the girl's shoulder. "You're starting to shiver."

The room quieted for a long moment, as if everyone was holding their collective breath. This was the moment when the old Edward would have insisted on carrying Bella off to bed, stating that she shouldn't be up in the cold, or the middle of the night. He tensed slightly, and it was clear that he was not happy that she was uncomfortable. But he didn't say anything, certainly made no demands, and Bella beamed at him, her smile sparkling sweet.

"Thank you, Esme," she said softly, but it was clear that the words were meant for Edward as well.

"Can I get you a blanket to wrap up in?" he asked, hedging slightly. He looked unsure, as if he didn't know whether the question would be too much.

But Bella continued to smile, and she nodded at him. Really, she didn't at all mind him thinking of her comfort. It was a new sensation, something she had never before experienced, but his care and concern wasn't the problem. The problem was when he assumed that he knew best, and his decisions had to be the right ones. This was a marvelous step in the right direction—he had  _asked_  if she wanted a blanket. She had the option to refuse. Give and take—that was the measure of a lasting relationship. Esme and Alice had both said it, though in different words. She let Edward fetch her a blanket because she knew it made him happy. He let her make the choice because he knew it made  _her_  happy. Compromise. Learning to bend...and meet in the middle.

He returned almost instantly with one of the extra blankets he'd piled onto her air mattress in the library. It was thick and fleecy, and she snuggled into the heavy softness as he tucked it around her shoulders. The entire house really was chilly, and somewhat damp, too. Carlisle and Esme both promised that this would no longer be a concern once the renovations were complete.

"You don't need to stop on my account," Bella said, motioning to Emmett and Carlisle. "Really. I just didn't know what the noise was, is all."

"But you need to sleep," Carlisle said, frowning slightly. "And I say that not as a father, but as a physician. Your body needs extra rest now that you're carrying a little one."

Esme carried a steaming mug over to the table, placing it in Bella's hands. The sweet smell of hot milk with honey and cinnamon made Bella want to purr with happiness. She had her family with her—all but Rose and Alice, though they were somewhere in the house. Charlie didn't know where she was, and regardless of whatever else had happened in this house, here she had been safe from him. She was healthier and stronger than she'd been in a very long time, free from bruises and other injuries. She was warm and safe, neither hungry nor hurt nor worried. It was...a wonderful feeling. Unexpectedly she felt tears stinging her eyes, though she usually did not let herself cry.

"Bella?" Edward asked in concern. "Bella, baby, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, breathing in the sweet smell of her drink, wishing she could bottle this moment. Family. Home. Safety. Love. These were concepts she wasn't at all used to, and the feeling hit her hard.

"I don't think there's anything wrong," Esme said softly, slipping an arm around Bella's blanket-clad shoulders. She smiled understandingly at the girl trying and failing to put her feelings into words. Edward looked to Jasper, who nodded in agreement, smiling softly. "Sometimes tears can be happy, or surprised, or cathartic. What do you say, Bella?"

"A little of all three, maybe?" Bella smiled through a haze of tears, brushing them away with the back of her hand. "I'm okay, really."

"Yes," Esme said proudly, squeezing gently. "Yes, I believe you are."


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella fell asleep on Esme's shoulder, and Edward carried her back to bed. She slept deeply, her breathing untroubled, and he wrapped her in blankets before lying next to her on the air mattress, letting her bundled form curl against him. He could hear her steady heartbeat and the lighter, faster thrum of the smaller heart inside her.

"So beautiful," he murmured, stroking her hairline, feeling the feathery texture of the light hairs that framed her face. "So brave. I love you, Bella."

She nestled close, her body turning toward his as if seeking him out, drawn like a planet to a sun. Edward reveled in the expression of peace on her face—something he did not often get to witness. Often she looked troubled even when she slept, as if her dreams were unpleasant. Tonight, though, she looked utterly at rest.

"You've overcome so much," he said softly, fingertips tender as they roamed across the pale pink plane of her cheek. "I know you'll be able to get through whatever else comes our way."

Esme's pride in Bella's progress was palpable, even to Edward who could only read thoughts, not emotions. His mother's insistence not to be parted from Bella was foremost in her mind, and he followed both the words and the inner thoughts of his parents as they debated what to do once their holiday came to an end.

"Heidi promised," Esme said. "She promised to keep Bella away from Charlie—that we could keep her for the time being. If we can't trust the officials, who can we trust?"

"I don't know," Carlisle said. "I don't know what will happen, and that's the trouble. It's a dangerous proposition, taking her back where her father can physically get to her, especially if Heidi doesn't have the final say in where she goes. The fact that Alice can't see her doesn't help make this decision any easier."

Esme's thoughts were frustrated, warring Bella's physical safety against her promise not to be separated from the family again. "Carlisle, she's family. We can't keep her holed up like a dirty little secret."

"There's also the pregnancy to think of," he said. "I'll need to do a thorough examination at some point—not now, I don't have a sonogram machine with me, and I can't risk taking her to a human doctor, considering what she's carrying. Right now everything seems to be progressing normally—she's not really showing, but at a little more than ten weeks, I wouldn't expect it. But what if something changes drastically? What if this pregnancy doesn't continue to progress normally? I don't like the thought of her being under the microscope of the state during this delicate time."

"There's also something else to consider," Jasper said quietly, stepping into the room, Alice tucked close to his side. "It may be best if the state never learns that Bella is pregnant with a second child. If she's stating that Mason's birth was the result of rape, it doesn't look good if she shows up pregnant again. And if you want to tell the truth, that the baby is Edward's, the fact that a minor got pregnant under your supposed watch doesn't speak well to your parenting. The timing really isn't ideal. If we could postpone the trial until after she gives birth, that would help a lot."

Edward could understand Jasper's point, and he felt a rush of guilt that he had created this difficult situation. Bella needed to be out of Charlie's clutches for good, and for that to happen, Charlie needed to go to trial and Bella needed to testify against her father. But if she did so visibly pregnant, it would throw her testimony into doubt. A jury might see her as just another attention-seeking, messed up teenager, bent on blaming her father for her own bad choices. A baby in her underage belly made it look like the child she'd already borne mightn't be the product of a sadistic rapist after all, but just another example of a pattern of bad decisions on Bella's part. Not to mention, allowing her to get pregnant a second time made Esme and Carlisle look bad, even though in reality they'd had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Jasper was right, in a way—postponing the trial until Bella was no longer pregnant would solve those problems, as long as they could keep the baby secret. But waiting caused another slew of issues. Bella needed to be out of Charlie's reach  _now_ , not later. She needed it both for her physical safety and for her mental health. The thought of that constant stress, the threat of Charlie taking away this new life she'd made for herself, was unacceptable, especially while she was carrying a child. It could do permanent harm to both of them, and Edward couldn't just sit back and let that happen. Plus, if they were going to keep the pregnancy a secret, Bella would have to stay here, out of the country where the state of Washington couldn't find her. That meant more enforced separation from the family, because they couldn't just pick up and leave Forks with a trial looming. Edward couldn't bear the thought of being separated from her again, especially now that he knew she was carrying his child. Whatever happened, they needed to be together—to experience it together. Bella might not appreciate his overprotective streak, but she needed the support of her lover. Besides, Esme had promised her. She'd  _promised_ , and Edward didn't think Esme would be able to rescind on that promise, no matter the consequences.

"Still nothing, Alice?" Carlisle asked, though he did not sound hopeful.

Alice did not answer verbally, though her unspoken response was negative. Edward assumed she must have shaken her head, unrepentantly listening to her thoughts as she nestled against her husband. She was frustrated with her own shortcomings, her inability to see anything useful regarding Bella. The few visions she'd had of her newest sister danced before her mind's eye, and Edward watched them carefully, though he'd seen most before. The first brief, vibrant scenes that had clued Alice into Bella's appearance in their lives, the sudden flash of her holding a tiny, dark-haired infant that was clearly not Mason. Edward's unbeating heart leaped into his throat as he savored that particular image in his mind's eye. It hadn't meant anything to him before, but now that he knew Bella was carrying his child, he felt hope well up inside him. Was this  _his_  child Alice had seen—the one that now lay, safe and protected, inside Bella's warm body? The image was not sharp enough for him to discern much of the child's features—it was small, that much he knew. Newborn, perhaps. And Bella was holding it wrapped in a cream-colored blanket, which swathed its tiny body and gave absolutely no indication of gender.

Alice's newest brief flash of Bella was definitely sharper, more defined. She was dressed conservatively, in a soft grey cardigan over a pale pink button-down shirt, and she looked drawn but resolute, her hands clasped in her lap. Her soft hair was pulled back from her face in a half ponytail, and Edward knew immediately where she was.

Court. On the witness stand, to be exact.

And she did not look pregnant.

Did that mean Jasper was right? Would they keep her here until she gave birth, despite the risk to her emotional well-being? It wasn't an outcome Edward liked at all. For starters, who would stay with her? They needed to keep up appearances in Forks, especially with CPS and probably lawyers digging into this mess. That meant only one Cullen would likely be able to stay with her. Esme loved her and would not willingly choose to be parted from her again. Edward himself was adamant about not leaving her, especially while she carried his child. Bella would miss Rose, whom she viewed as a mentor. And, of course, there was Carlisle. His medical expertise made him absolutely vital to Bella's health while she carried a potentially dangerous hybrid fetus in her belly. A human doctor simply would not suffice, nor would the family risk exposing their secret by confiding in one. They had a limited support system of friendly vampires they could rely on for other purposes, but Carlisle was the only vampire doctor in the world as far as they knew.

It didn't seem like a good idea to Edward, and yet Alice had had a vision, which meant  _someone_  had made a decision. She was able to see possibilities sometimes—what-if scenarios—and Edward wondered if perhaps this mightn't be one. Or if, perhaps, another decision might change the outcome.

But really, was putting Bella on the stand round with child really any better? Risking her credibility and that of the family? Anything that might increase the chance of Charlie regaining custody of Bella  _or_  Mason was unacceptable. If it happened, Edward knew, he and Rosalie would be united again in the clear-cut decision to kill Charlie Swan in cold blood. There was no question about it. Edward desperately did not want his hand forced like that, but what else could he possibly do? He couldn't let Bella return to that monster. It simply wasn't an option.

But...what if there were a third option? One that still wasn't ideal, but at least negated the worst issues with the other two?

Edward gazed softly at the sleeping girl in his arms. She needed her family with her—that was beyond obvious. And she needed to be out of Charlie's grasp for good, which only death or termination of Charlie's parental rights would accomplish. If she needed another option, Edward would damn well _make_  another option. One that was more palatable to all involved.

From the other room, Edward heard Alice squeal. A heartbeat later, his mind was assaulted with the same brief image of Bella in the courtroom, this time much sharper and more distinct. The flash only lasted a moment—Alice's visions of Bella were notoriously unhelpful—but it was enough to solidify the idea in his mind. He kissed Bella's sleeping forehead briefly, extracting himself from her grasp and hurrying to the kitchen.

"Edward," Carlisle said when he entered the room and Esme turned to him, her eyes bright. "What's going on?"

"He made a decision!" Alice said, clasping her hands together. "I think it's a good one!"

"It won't be easy," Edward said carefully, "and it will require some cooperation from Heidi and her contacts."

"I honestly believe Heidi will do everything she can to help Bella," Esme said. "She seems very sincere."

"How quickly do you think we could push the trial through if we convinced her that waiting was deleterious to Bella's emotional health?"

Jasper started to smile. "You mean, see if we can get her to testify before she starts to really show?"

"Exactly." Edward felt distinctly nervous as he considered the implications of what they sought to do. Convincing Heidi would be the easy part. Getting a judge to agree and assembling the necessary people in the short window of time before Bella started showing would be far more difficult.

"We could get it out of the way sooner rather than later," Esme said, and it was clear that she already quite liked the idea. "Then Bella could relax in safety, and have her baby in peace. Oh, Carlisle, let's try. For Bella. Please?"

"I'm not averse to the idea," he said slowly, and Edward watched the thoughts in his father's head, weighing the pros and cons of all three choices. "You know this will mean greasing some wheels though, don't you? The wheels of justice** turn slowly. The preliminary hearing has been rescheduled twice now, and after that there's both family court and hopefully a criminal trial to go. That's a lot to ask of the state in the short time before Bella really starts showing."

"Money isn't an object when we're talking about the safety of our family!" Alice protested.

"That's not what I mean," Carlisle said soothingly. "Whatever else we may be, Cullens are certainly not  _cheap_." He smiled at his daughter. "No, what I mean is that we're going to have to bribe our way into a courtroom. Technically, that's illegal, and I'm willing to bet Bella won't like it."

"So don't tell her," Alice said succinctly.

"Oh, no." The objection came from Edward, who had heard the thought in Alice's head before she voiced it, and who also knew that while it seemed like the simplest choice, it wasn't a good one. He was done hiding things from Bella, or attempting to run the show behind her back. She needed to know what was happening.

In fact, she needed to be the one to make the decision.

"We're going to ask her," he said firmly. "We're going to put the three choices on the table, good and bad, and we're going to let her choose. This is her life. I learned that lesson the hard way, and I'm not going to fuck up so soon."

"Bravo, brother," Rose said, slipping into the room, Mason asleep on her shoulder. He was drooling on a burp rag, but she didn't seem to care. "I'm damn proud of you."

Edward made a face at her, and she made one back.

"But this isn't like before," Alice insisted. "This isn't about what she wants to eat, or who prepares it. It's serious, and she isn't going to choose an option that has us paying money we otherwise wouldn't have to. You know she won't go for that."

Edward shrugged, sticking stubbornly to his insistence that Bella had to be the one to make this decision. "We have to give her that chance, Alice," he said. "Whatever choice she makes, we'll do our best to support her any way we can. That's what a family does."

"That's right," Esme said, smiling warmly. "That's  _exactly_  what a family does."

* * *

Bella woke late the morning after her night scare, and she was glad to find herself curled around Edward's firm body, one of his hands idly stroking her hair. She was wrapped in plenty of blankets so the chill of his skin did not bother her, and she nestled into the warmth of her soft cocoon, resting her head against his shoulder. "Hi," she said, wishing this was how she could always wake up—surrounded by his arms and the security they gave her.

"Good morning," he murmured, and he brushed a tender kiss against her forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Mmm...warm," she said, smiling softly. "Happy."

"I'm glad." He nuzzled the top of her head and she heard him inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of her. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke during the night," he said, his voice laced with regret. "I was helping with the plumbing project, and then went with Jasper to show him where the deer were. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she soothed. "You couldn't have known. Anyway, Carlisle helped me, and you're here now."

"Is that what you were scared of before?" he asked hesitantly. Bringing up those two nights he'd found her huddled and terrified in this house was not something he liked to do. "That there might be ghosts?"

"Please don't laugh at me," she said, squirming slightly in his arms.

"I'm not. Believe me, I'm not. I just wish I'd known, and maybe been able to help you sooner."

"I'm not really a very squeamish girl," Bella said, huddling close and letting him run his hands gently along her back. She could feel the pressure even through the blankets, and it felt nice. "Vampires—werewolves—whatever. Blood and guts, too. I spent way too much time with Charlie, who hunts and fishes, to be icked out by that. I don't know what it is about this place—maybe just how old it is, and how sad. Those tapestries—in the dark, all those faces were moving in the drafty room, and I just couldn't—" She stopped, shuddering.

"Shh, Bella, it's okay," Edward said, and he smiled. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. In a world where vampires exist, it's completely reasonable to wonder about other things, too. Ghosts actually make a lot more sense than vampires, in fact."

"Have you ever seen one?" Bella asked, peeking up at him.

"No. And I haven't sensed any thoughts I couldn't account for, either—that I couldn't attribute to this or that person. If they exist, ghosts do a good job of hiding themselves. Or maybe they're afraid of vampires. Most things are, you know. You're the exception to the rule."

Bella smiled, turning her cheek into his hand when he touched it. "I could be afraid, I guess, in another context," she said. "But you don't eat people, and you're so gentle. Trust me, I've seen human monsters far worse than you."

"I know you have, baby, and I'm sorry for that. So sorry." He pressed his forehead to hers, sharing breath, warm and cold, for a long moment.

"Please don't be sorry," she murmured, pulling her arms out of her nest of blankets and slipping them around his cool shoulders. "It isn't your fault, and hopefully soon I'll be rid of Charlie forever."

"About that..." Edward pulled away slightly so he could see her eyes. His were bright, burnished topaz—though he said he'd only taken Jasper to find the deer in the park, it looked as if he'd fed as well.

"About what?" Bella said quickly, her heart picking up speed and rushing nervously against her ribcage. "What's wrong?"

"Shh, nothing's wrong, sweet girl," Edward said hastily. "Nothing at all. We just talked last night after you fell asleep again—about our options for going forward. And we want your opinion on the best course of action."

"Whatever Esme and Carlisle think is best," Bella said quickly.

Edward smiled and kissed her lips softly. "We'd all like you to hear the options and decide for yourself, Bella. This is your life, and you wanted more control over it. Remember—that's what our whole fight was about?"

"But I don't know anything about the legal system," Bella said in a small voice as they slowly began struggling their way out of bed for the day. She found a pair of jeans and layered several warm shirts over her torso, adding thick socks and her sneakers.

"You don't need to. We're here to help you every step of the way, but the final decision really does have to be yours."

Bella took a deep breath. This was what she'd wanted, she told herself. She needed to take responsibility if she wanted her freedom, and she trusted Carlisle and Esme to help her if she needed it. The thought was daunting, though. How would she know the right decision? What if she made a bad one? Would the Cullens think less of her? Would they be willing to tell her if they disagreed with her?

Her thoughts were uneasy as she and Edward headed hand in hand to the kitchen, where Alice was already at work chopping vegetables to put in an omelette—clearly she was still not thrilled with the black pudding preoccupation. Bella let it slide, since she could eat pudding at lunch and dinner if she so chose, and poured milk to drink. Though the fetus in her belly seemed only to crave blood at this point, she figured it would still be best to try to keep a balanced diet that included plenty of calcium.

Edward didn't say anything about the fact that Bella was letting Alice cook for her, though he did narrow his eyes. Bella held her hand out for him and he came to stand behind her chair, rubbing her shoulders gently. She nuzzled his arm, watching his eyes soften at the touch. "I love you," she said quietly, and his eyes turned liquid.

"Love you," he murmured back, kissing her gently.

The awful screeching noise started up again, and all three inhabitants of the kitchen winced. Bella didn't know how the vampires with their superior hearing could stand it.

"Can you tell me about my options?" Bella asked Edward as Alice slid a steaming plate with a vegetable omelette in front of her. "What kind of choices are we talking about?"

So, as Bella ate, Edward outlined the three options they'd come up with the night before. They could put off any legal proceedings until after she had the baby, but that would mean more enforced separation from the family and a stressful, probably dangerous pregnancy, since Carlisle simply could not be in two places at once. They could let the wheels of justice progress at their own pace, but Bella would probably be heavily pregnant by the time she was required to go before a judge, and that would call both her own testimony and the parental fitness of the Cullens into question. Or they could see if they could somehow persuade the legal timeline to hurry up, putting a rush on Bella's case and hopefully finishing before her pregnancy really started to show.

"I like the third idea best," she said, mulling the choices around in her head as she dutifully tried to finish the meal Alice had made for her. It tasted off, and she already knew she was going to have a stomachache before long. This was a meal she had expressly taught Alice to make, so she doubted the problem was on the cooking end. Rather, her body was changing. The baby in her belly was demanding different foods than the ones Bella was accustomed to eating. She didn't have a problem with that, per se, but it did present a challenge when she didn't know what, other than black pudding, the fetus would tolerate.

"That's what we thought, too," Edward said in relief. He deliberately had not specified what sort of encouragement they could use to speed up the process, though he felt underhanded doing so. He hoped that perhaps she would see that it really was the best option before she started asking questions like that. Then, once she knew the full truth about what Carlisle and Esme planned to do, they could try to talk her into seeing that it was money well spent. Anything to ensure her safety.

"I don't want to be away from the family anymore," Bella added, finally pushing her plate away. "And I don't want to do anything that would make people think badly of Esme and Carlisle. Edward, I didn't even  _think_ —"

"Shh," he soothed. "I know, baby. I know you didn't. Jasper was the one who mentioned it; I didn't realize it either until he said something."

"But how can we convince them to hear my case quickly?" Bella asked with a frown. She slid out of her chair, carrying her half-full plate to the sink. Alice made a motion to protest, but one glance from Edward stopped her. "They've postponed it before. What would stop them from doing it again?"

"Money talks," Edward said slowly, watching her carefully as she scraped her leftovers into the trash and ran water to start washing the dishes.

Bella whirled, her face white, and stared at him with big eyes. "No!" she said, dropping a fork in the sink.

"Bella, listen—"

"No," she said again, turning off the water abruptly and wiping her hands on the thighs of her jeans. "Edward, that's bribery!"

"We're not paying for a verdict, Bella," Carlisle said, ghosting into the room on silent feet. He was dirty again—or still, perhaps—but his face was solemn as he spoke to his newest daughter. This was the best choice, and she needed to be okay with it. She wouldn't be physically safe attempting to carry this child to term without him close by to offer medical care, and if she went back to Forks visibly pregnant the results could potentially be disastrous for the trial. "We're just ensuring that your case gets heard in a timely manner. Honey, you may not like it, but the system works faster and better for people who can afford to grease the wheels a little. It's not the same as buying a guilty verdict for Charlie, much as I wish we could."

Still, Bella shook her head. "I can't cost you money like that," she said, her face pale. "It's not right."

"Bella," Carlisle said, frowning slightly as he took in her white complexion, "will you sit down for a moment, please? You don't look well."

Immediately Edward had a chair held out for her, and Bella sank into it with a curious look at Carlisle. He stepped forward and placed a cold hand on her cheek. She was a little warm, though she did not feel feverish.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked, listening with keen ears for her heartbeat and that of the fetus within her. Bella's was a little fast, as if she'd been climbing stairs instead of standing at the sink, but the baby's was untroubled.

Bella shrugged. "My stomach's a little queasy," she said.

"What did you have for breakfast?"

"Eggs with spinach, zucchini, red peppers, and cheese." Bella glanced at the untouched milk on the table, only now realizing she hadn't swallowed any. Her stomach rolled as she listed the ingredients. It was an odd sensation, something caught just on the edge of nausea. Usually she would have savored such a meal.

"I cooked," Alice said, coming forward. "I hope I didn't mess it up."

"No pudding?" Carlisle asked, glancing from one daughter to the other.

Alice shook her head.

"Bella?"

"I'm not going to throw up," she said, paying attention to the uncomfortable feeling of her stomach. "I just don't feel very well."

"Why don't you lie back down?" Carlisle suggested. "Try to sleep it off, if you can. You can have some pudding for lunch if your stomach feels up to it, and see if that helps at all."

Bella nodded, feeling a headache beginning to come on. She raised her arms in entreaty to Edward, knowing he would understand what she wanted.

"I've got you," he soothed, picking her up and cradling her gently against his wonderfully cool chest. "You're going to be fine."

"I was just trying to help," Alice said repentantly. "It doesn't seem healthy to eat the same thing all the time."

"It might not seem healthy for a human," Carlisle said gently, "but if you think about it,  _we_  eat the same thing for every meal, and the child Bella is carrying is half vampire. If it needs blood, black pudding is one of the most benign sources and Bella is still getting some human nutrients from it as well. Let's let her body decide what she needs for now, and see how it goes. We have no precedents to follow, after all."

"I'm sorry, Bella," Alice said quietly.

Bella forced a smile, though she was feeling fairly miserable at the moment. She wasn't going to puke, but the food did not sit well in her belly, she had the beginnings of a headache, and she felt a little warm, as if she'd been running. Edward's body was heaven pressed against hers. "Can I have some ibuprofen?" she asked Carlisle, hoping to stave off the worst of the headache.

"If you think it won't upset your stomach anymore," he said, "you may. Edward can bring it to you after you get settled."

But getting settled was a bigger task than Bella had assumed. The rocking motion of her air mattress only exacerbated the nausea, and Edward was disinclined to let her sleep on the ground. In compromise, they agreed to try the bed in his room. He set her on the cool sheets, and Bella turned her face gladly into the chilly pillow.

"Feels good," she said.

"Does that mean you don't want a fire?" Edward asked worriedly. He was hovering, but Bella didn't mind at the moment. His care was actually rather nice.

"No fire," she said. "Just some medicine, please."

Edward brought her water and the pills, which she took from his hand without a qualm. Edward didn't know whether she trusted him completely after the way he'd drugged her previously, or if she just knew what the distinctive orange tablets were. Either way, she didn't question him, and after she swallowed the pills and water, she asked if he would stay with her.

"Of course," he said, stroking her cheek. "Where else would I go?"

"Would you read to me?" she asked hopefully. Her headache meant her eyes did not want to focus on words on a page, but she was more than happy to listen to Edward if he would read to her. She loved the soft, velvet quality of his voice, the way it wrapped her in a delicious kind of warmth.

"Gladly. What do you want?"

Bella picked the next history book on her list, hoping she would remember at least some of it when she started her lessons again. Edward dashed back to the library to fetch it, and when he returned she was already half asleep.

"I've got your book," he said, stroking her hair away from her face. This sudden blip on her health worried him, but he tried not to exaggerate it into something worse than it was. Alice had fed her something the baby apparently did not like, and this would soon pass. Then, as far as Edward was concerned, Bella could eat nothing but black pudding for as long as she liked. If it kept her healthy and happy, there was no reason to force her to eat other things.

"I don't feel good," Bella mumbled, pressing her cheek into the pillow.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry—I wish there was something I could do for you. Do you think you need Carlisle?"

She shook her head, frowning, before closing her eyes and nuzzling into the pillow. She looked small and vulnerably fragile, huddled in the big bed, her face pale and her eyes squeezed shut. Edward ached to take her pain away, but Carlisle had said to let her sleep it off. If that was the necessary solution, Edward would do all he could to soothe her to sleep.

As he stroked her hair and began to read quietly, half of his mind on the words and half on her face, an idea played at the edges of his thoughts. Bella had a kind of luminous, fragile quality to her, a wistful, sweet innocence that made people want to help her. She had enchanted his entire family without trying, and Mason's social worker—now Bella's social worker, too—had also seen and responded to her, vowing to help the girl in any way possible.

And maybe, just maybe, they could use that to their advantage. Maybe there was a way to get Bella's trial date moved up without bribing the justice system after all.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions for this chapter:   
> Münchausen syndrome by proxy "is a mental illness in which a person acts as if an individual he or she is caring for has a physical or mental illness when the person is not really sick. The adult perpetrator has MSP and directly produces or lies about illness in another person under his or her care, usually a child under 6 years of age." (from the Cleveland Clinic).   
> "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is a famous poem by TS Eliot, which is very strange and I adore it.   
> Amber Alerts, for non-US readers, are a nationwide alert system triggered when a child is abducted.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

"I don't like this idea," Edward said, watching as Bella chewed nervously on her lower lip. "This wasn't what I meant at all."

"Maybe not," Jasper said, "but it's a good idea, nonetheless."

Edward merely scowled. Bella was his mate, the love of his life, and he hated the thought of doing anything that would cause her pain, emotional or physical. His original idea had been to call Heidi with a story that Bella had contacted them, but that she was only willing to give up her location and return to Forks if she could stay with the Cullens and her case be processed with all due haste. In Edward's plan, Bella was kept at a safe distance from everyone involved, including the social worker. The family would act as a buffer between her and the rest of the world, shielding her from the emotional pain of having to ask for something that ought to be hers by right—freedom, and peace.

Upon hearing Edward's idea, though, Jasper had hatched one of his own. And to Edward's horror, Bella agreed.

"If it's not me on the phone, it doesn't sound as urgent," Bella said softly, taking his hand in both her warm ones. Edward felt a tremor in his unbeating heart as he looked at her slender fingers, just a shade warmer than his own, and squeezed back gently. Bella and Jasper had a point, though he hated to admit it. He just didn't understand why it had to be taken to the extreme that they wanted.

"If Bella has to talk to the social worker, fine," he said, knowing that his argument would get him nowhere but unable to stop trying nonetheless. "But why do you have to push her into a meltdown on the phone? That's not fair, Jasper. It's not right."

"It needs to be believable," Jasper said simply. "Humans understand and respond to emotion, Edward. If we want Heidi to really get the point and try her best, what we need to do is sell the idea that, for Bella's emotional health, this is the only option."

"I still don't like it," Edward muttered, sitting on the displaced couch in the hall.

"This is for Bella," Esme said, entering the conversation swiftly. "You can help soothe her any way you please once the phone call is over. It will only be a few minutes."

That didn't really make it any better, but Edward knew it was useless at this point to argue with them, especially since it seemed Bella wanted this. He looked at his human girl, her brown eyes big and worried as she watched him and gnawed on her swollen lower lip.

"Will you sit with me, Edward?" she asked, voice small and unsure. "If you need to leave, I understand, but I don't want to do this without you."

"I''m never leaving you again," he said firmly, and he let her crawl onto his lap, nestling against the cold bulk of him.

"Good," she murmured, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder. "I'm doing this for us, you know. For the chance to be finally free."

"I know, sweetheart," Edward said, holding the warm sweetness of her in his arms. "I know, and I won't stop you. I'm done trying to control you. I just hate knowing you're going to be upset."

"If you hold me, I'll be okay." She nuzzled him softly.

"Of course. Whatever you need."

She exhaled slowly, the tension in her body visibly waning as Edward held her. "Can we get this done now?" she asked. "What time is it in Forks?"

"They're eight hours behind," Jasper said, glancing at his phone. "It'll be about one in the afternoon there."

Bella nodded slowly. "I want to use my old phone," she said. "She won't be able to tell where I'm calling from, right? If I use a cell?"

"Not unless she had a reason to track you, which she doesn't," Edward soothed.

Bella took a deep breath. Her eyes were large and nervous as she turned them to Jasper. "Now?" she said. "Can we do it now?"

"Whenever you want," he said, smiling softly at her. "Don't worry, little sister. I won't give you more than you can handle."

They chose to settle in Alice's art studio, simply because Alice had put a giant beanbag chair in the room—a piece of furniture that was utterly incongruous in the old house—and Bella wanted to curl up with Edward on it. She held her old phone in her hand, the one still attached to her mother's account, and Edward didn't have to use his sharp vampire sight to know she was trembling. He could feel the nervous shaking against his body as they settled on the beanbag, and he struggled to keep his hands to himself for the moment. After the phone call he could soothe Bella all he liked, but she needed to be emotionally raw when she spoke to Heidi. She wanted him in the room with her, but she agreed with Jasper that she needed to be as raw and real as possible during the call.

"Are you ready, Bella?" Jasper asked, watching her sympathetically.

She nodded, but her face was pale. "I'm ready," she said softly.

"Once you start talking to her, I'm going to push your emotions," he warned. "It won't be pleasant; you realize this, right?"

She nodded.

"Once the phone call is over, I'll do everything I can to alleviate any hurt you may be feeling. Edward will be here for you, too. But you need to tell me now if you think you can't handle it. It's important that you're honest about what you can handle."

"I can do it," Bella said softly. She had to. There was no other option. She had to convince Heidi that her court case needed to be moved up as much as possible. If she couldn't do that, they would be forced to make a decision between two equally bad choices.

A sudden tapping sound of heels heralded Esme's arrival, and she hurried into the room at slightly faster than human speed. "Relax, sweetheart," she said encouragingly. "Everything will be all right."

"I know," Bella said, breathing slowly even as she felt her heart rate begin to climb. "I'll be okay." She flipped open her phone, took the scrap of paper Esme handed her with Heidi's number on it, and haltingly dialed the numbers.

Three rings. Then four.

* * *

The holidays were a hard time to be a caseworker with the state. Heidi pondered the difficulties of her job as she stopped at a red light, staring into the bleak, overcast skies of western Washington. She was just south of Sequim right now, and she had a screaming five-year-old in the back seat, a child advocate next to him, trying to calm him down.

The little boy, yet another of her cases, would not be placated. Heidi  _hated_  the fact that the order to remove the child had to be served on the day before Christmas Eve. It was always so much more heart-wrenching to sever a family so close to the holidays, no matter how bad the environment was for the child in question. In this instance, an unusually bad case of Münchausen syndrome by proxy had surfaced in the mother, making it absolutely unsafe to leave the little boy in her care. There were no close relatives willing to take the child and refuse the mother visiting rights, so the state was forced to send Heidi to place him in emergency foster care.

"Jamie," Heidi said, glancing in her rearview mirror at the hysterical boy in the booster seat, "I'm sorry, buddy. You know I'm your friend, right? I've come to see you at your home and in the hospital before. Doctor Knotts will explain it to you when you see him next, but it's not safe for you to stay with your mommy right now. My job is to keep you safe, just like a police officer. You're so important to me, Jamie."

But the little boy was inconsolable. "I w-want my mommy-y-y!" he screeched, turning the final vowel into a high-pitched, keening plea. Heidi exchanged a sympathetic glance with the child advocate. Marla's job was to make sure the child's interests were put first in all interactions with state employees and doctors; she was the oversight, the backup meant to keep children from falling through the cracks in an underfunded and imperfect system. Normally, they got along quite well.

This was a difficult case, however. Münchausen syndrome by proxy was impossible to explain to a five-year-old. He had absolutely no idea that his near-constant illnesses had actually been caused by his mother. Explaining things like that wasn't Heidi's job—that was for the counselors and psychiatrists to attempt. His confusion didn't make her task of removing the boy any easier, though.

"You bitch!" the irate father had screamed when Heidi, Marla, and several police officers showed up to remove his son from the home. "You cocksucking whore! It's  _Christmas_ , for fuck's sake!"

Heidi was used to being sworn at, called names, and threatened with violence. She didn't care one bit about how the adults saw her. What still hurt—absolutely gutted her—was when the children cried and begged to be returned to their homes. But what was she supposed to do? She believed in her work. If she didn't remove this child from his mother's care, eventually she was going to kill him.

And it was always worse during the holidays.

Thankfully, she had several days off surrounding the holiday, and then a weekend. She'd have time to replenish her stores of energy and patience, to look over her case files and hopefully find new ways to approach the multiple children in her caseload.

Vaguely, her mind began to wander as she drove toward Jamie's temporary foster home in Bremerton. The little girl who compulsively chewed her own hair since being removed from a fundamentalist home was doing much better, but her sister was showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after witnessing their older sister's lingering death. Then there was the disturbed teenage boy who thought he wanted to be in a gang and kept trying to stir up trouble in his upper-class neighborhood in Olympia. Eventually he was going to pick a fight with someone who wasn't understanding, and he'd be in a world of hurt.

And, of course, there was Bella.

Isabella Swan was never very far from Heidi's mind, though it had been months since anyone in Washington last saw her. The best they could do was plaster her face on the news and hope someone stepped forward. So far no one had. The state patrol was doing their best at building a case against Bella's father, the police chief, but they had stopped short of issuing an Amber Alert for the girl. Their reasoning was that there was no evidence Bella had been abducted; she was most likely a runaway, and teenage runaways were a dime a dozen. Heidi understood their reasoning to a point, but she could not call up Bella's pretty, scared face in her mind and believe the girl was an average runaway. Yes, she'd probably left of her own free will. But really, what else could anyone expect a sensitive, frightened girl to do in Bella's situation? She was terrified for her life, and she had absolutely no way of knowing that Heidi would do anything to help her. Heidi had to admit that she had failed the girl when they first met, and she was desperate not to do so again. But Bella didn't know that.

The fact that the Cullens kept in touch and professed their fervent wish to bring Bella home with them only made Heidi that much more determined to find her. She had a loving home with people who wanted her, and that really was the deciding factor that could make or break just about any young life. If Bella's prospects for returning to Forks were merely to shuffle back into her father's guardianship, Heidi almost— _almost_ —would have wished the girl stayed gone. The problem was, there were definitely worse places in the world for a young girl to end up than with a violent father, as much as Heidi hated to admit it. If she could only know that Isabella was  _safe_ , that would be something.

"Daddy will beat you up," Jamie informed them solemnly from the back of the car. His little face was wet with tears and snot, his little baby eyes narrowed viciously as he glared at Heidi through the mirror. "Daddy said never to go with anyone but family or the police."

"The police were at your house," Heidi reminded him. She was used to the raw emotions of children of all ages and she did not take offense at the little boy's threat. Children who lived in dysfunctional homes learned dysfunctional behaviors, and they were remarkable mimics of the things their parents said and did. "They took you, and they gave you to me. You did nothing wrong, Jamie."

"Daddy beat up Joey's daddy," the boy continued, almost conversationally. "There was blood  _everywhere_. His nose swelled up like a cartoon and it got all purple."

"It's not nice to talk about hitting people, Jamie," Marla said as they approached the city of Bremerton, which would be Jamie's new home until the mess with his mother was sorted out. The couple they had selected were used to children coming to them at all hours of the day and night, most with no possessions. They were used to fury, or hysterics, or raw grief, or the shut-down quiet that always made Heidi worry the most for a distraught child. Hopefully they would be able to settle this boy down in time for him to have at least a semblance of Christmas.

"Fuck you," he said, very clearly.

And really, Heidi couldn't blame him.

The child advocate led a very unwilling little boy to the door as Heidi gathered the paperwork for the foster parents to sign. It was raining again—always raining, it seemed—and Jamie had no jacket, but he didn't seem to notice as he slunk dejectedly into the strange house at Marla's urging. Heidi shared a glance with his new foster father, a quiet and religious man she'd come to know well during her years with the state of Washington.

"Poor soul," he said, ushering Heidi inside. He knew the drill backwards and forwards by now, and it only took a few minutes to complete the necessary forms and hand over the tracking sheets they would use to log Jamie's time with them—his sleeping and eating habits, his moods, any outbursts, and anything else the state might want to know. "Thank you for bringing him, Ms. Fischer."

"Thank  _you_ ," Heidi replied. She turned to Jamie, who was staring sullenly at the living room where two other foster children were staring right back at him. "Jamie? Marla and I have to go now."

He did not answer, and when she touched his shoulder he pulled away. It was disheartening, but Heidi tried to tell herself she was used to it. He was hurting, and the presence of the people who had taken him away from everything he knew wasn't wanted right now. She understood.

Returning to the car, Heidi breathed a long sigh of relief.

"I can drive for a while," Marla offered, and Heidi gladly handed over the keys. They had a good hour's drive ahead of them, and it would be dark before they reached Olympia.

But even as she slouched in the passenger's seat, rummaging in her big purse for the apple she'd tossed in there this morning, Heidi couldn't seem to keep her caseload from her mind. So many kids in need of help, hurting in so many different ways. Poor Isabella Swan had perhaps the worst story of them all, and yet the state felt she was not a high priority because she was so old. Children aged out of the system precisely on their eighteenth birthdays. Bella was seventeen now. To the state's mind, why waste resources on a girl who had less than a year to go before she was legally an adult? Overworked psychologists claimed that the damage was already done by seventeen. She was a lost cause. Better to reach the younger kids who still had a chance at a semblance of normalcy. To a certain point, Heidi understood. But she could not remember the soft sound of Isabella's stuttered words and make herself believe the girl was beyond help. Those big brown eyes called to her—she could see Bella as she had been in the hospital after giving birth, exhausted and frightened. At the time Heidi had thought the fear came from shame about her pregnancy, but now she could think back on the vivid memory and see it for what it truly was. Those eyes were begging her to understand—to help. To see Charles Swan for the monster he was.

And Heidi had failed.

Well, she wouldn't fail again. Not this girl. Not a second time.

The buzz of her phone in her pocket alerted Heidi to a call, and she forced her mind back into the present. The sky was darkly grey, rain pouring steadily on the car as they rolled along with the holiday traffic, headed south to Olympia. Marla drove competently in the state-owned car, and Heidi slowly dug for her phone. Was it another case? Another child she might potentially have to remove from its home?

The call was from an unknown number with an out-of-state area code. Heidi wondered idly if it was perhaps a client visiting family for the holidays.

But when she answered the phone, she did not expect the voice on the other end of the line.

At first there was silence, the static of a weak cell signal, and the soft sound of breathing.

"Hello?" Heidi prompted. "This is Heidi Fischer with Washington State Child Protective Services."

The breath caught, almost as if the person on the other end was afraid.

"Hello?" Heidi asked again, not sure whether to be worried or annoyed. "Are you there? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," someone finally said. The voice was incredibly soft, halting and hesitant. "I can hear you." Even through the cellular connection and the static-y crackle, Heidi knew it.

"Bella," she gasped. "Bella Swan, is that you?" Her heart leaped into her throat. After months of no leads, was the girl finally giving in and contacting her?

"Yes," the small voice said. It sounded so fragile, so close to breaking. "It's me."

"Bella, honey, you have no idea how worried we've been about you!" Heidi exclaimed.

A wet sniffle was her answer. "No," Bella said softly. "My dad isn't worried about me."

"Bella," Heidi soothed. She was a little unused to talking so gently to a child so old. Usually the teenagers were sullen and angry, their emotions too tumultuous to trust her and let her in. Bella was in some ways very young for her age, and in others extremely old. It made finding the right way of talking to her rather difficult. Heidi tried to project as much warmth and reassurance as she possibly could, hoping Bella wouldn't take it as patronizing. "Bella, Bella, I'm not talking about your father. No, honey. I mean the Cullens. I've been in contact with them quite frequently, and they're so worried about you."

A muffled choking, sobbing sound interrupted Bella's attempt to answer. She was silent for several moments as if pulling herself together before saying quietly, "No, they're not."

"Yes, they are, Bella. They're frantic. Honey, where are you? Please, Bella, tell me where you are. Are you safe? Are you hurt?"

"They have M-Mason," Bella said, the frightened stutter returning to her voice. It was a sound Heidi remembered well from Bella's trip to Olympia to see her. "They don't w-want me."

"They want you," Heidi said, willing the girl to believe it. If she didn't, there was absolutely no impetus for her to return home. "Bella, please. Where are you?"

"I'm okay," Bella said, though her words were not terribly convincing.

"I can't help you if you won't let me," Heidi pleaded. "That's not helpful, Bella."

"I don't want to tell you."

"Why, honey? Please, if you go to the police no matter where you are, they can get you back to me."

"No," Bella said, and it was perhaps the most forceful thing Heidi had ever heard from her. It wasn't loud or angry, but it was certainly firm. The girl sounded like she had absolutely no intention of returning to Washington.

"But why?"

Softer now—tremulous again, as if her words were made of thinnest spider's silk and the gentlest touch might snap them. "You'll make me go back to him."

"Oh, honey." Heidi felt her eyes begin to smart and she blinked forcefully. She  _never_  cried over her cases. What was it about this one teenage girl that made her feel for her so deeply? "No, Bella. I know he hurts you. Doctor Cullen showed me the tape he made of you, and the photos. I know. I understand why you felt you had to leave, and I'm not angry with you. I'm so proud of you for deciding to call. But you misunderstand me—I'm not sending you back to Chief Swan."

"He's the law," Bella nearly whispered. "What can you possibly do?"

"He's the law in Forks," Heidi corrected. "I work for the state. In that tug-of-war, the state will always win. I promise, Bella. Come back and I'll see to it you go straight to the Cullens. Not your father."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Heidi desperately hoped that Bella was considering her words. The girl needed to come back where she was safe and cared for. No matter how old the state felt she was, she wasn't anywhere near ready to take care of herself yet, especially as a runaway with no money.

Unfortunately, when the answer came, it wasn't the one Heidi wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry," Bella murmured. "I can't."

"Why can't you, Bella?" Heidi pressed, trying to keep her voice gentle. She desperately did not want to spook the girl into hanging up. "I gave my word, and I never go back on a promise."

"I just can't," Bella said. She was crying now; Heidi could hear the wet, heartbreaking sound even though Bella was trying hard to hide it.

"Tell me why. Tell me what the problem is, honey, and we can figure it out."

"I just can't," Bella repeated. Her breath caught in her throat, thick and raspy with tears. "They won't ever do anything to him; he's the chief of police. I'll have to live every moment afraid. I can't—you can't make me do it. He'll get me because he'll never go to trial, and you can't protect me. The Cullens can't protect me. No one can..."

"Oh, Bella. Bella." Heidi tried to find words to reassure the girl, but the truth was that her fears were quite realistic considering her situation. They had two huge hurdles to face—a family court hearing that would determine whether Bella stayed in her father's custody, and a criminal trial accusing him of child abuse. Heidi herself was more confident about the outcome of the first than the second. Proving parental incompetency was not the same as proving criminal intent. Removing Bella from her father's care would be the easy part. Putting Chief Swan in jail so he could not come after her or the Cullens in retribution would be much, much harder.

And really, Bella had every right to be afraid. A preliminary hearing to decide whether there was enough evidence to charge Charlie with a crime had already been postponed twice. Heidi could only imagine the kind of hell Bella's life would be, looking over her shoulder constantly, terrified to leave the Cullens' house or sight lest her father was waiting to exact his revenge. Sadly, Bella was right. Heidi could not expect her to come back to Washington without some sort of real reassurance that she was safe from her father.

"You can't make those kinds of promises," Bella whispered. At first Heidi felt uncomfortably like the girl was reading her mind, but then realized that she was just addressing Heidi's lack of an answer for her fears. "You know it as well as I do."

Yes. Unfortunately, Heidi  _did_  know. But that didn't mean she was willing to give up.

"Bella, let me make a few phone calls," she said. "You're old enough to understand that I can't work miracles, but let me see what I can do. You've got people on your side now, people willing to fight for you." She paused. "If I call you back at this number, will you answer?" Payphones were fast disappearing, but they weren't all gone. There was no telling where Bella was calling from.

"Yes," Bella said, though her quiet voice did not sound hopeful. "I won't ignore you, but you can't help me."

"Don't count me out just yet, honey. Let me see what I can do."

* * *

Bella was inconsolable for hours after the phone call with Heidi. She latched onto Edward, holding him with all the strength in her fragile human body, and refused to let go. For his part, Edward did not for one moment ask her to. He let her huddle on his lap on the beanbag chair, stroking her hair and back softly, handing her tissues from the box at his side every once in a while. She cried openly—Bella, who tried so hard most of the time to hide her tears. Edward's heart broke as he watched and listened to her pain, her frustration and sorrow equally intense.

Jasper promised in words too soft and swift for Bella to hear that he had barely pressed her emotions—most of Bella's pain was all hers and not induced. He also assured Edward, who could likewise feel it, that he was doing his best to soothe their human family member now, as he had promised. But Jasper could only do so much, and Bella's pain was intense. Jasper kept her from an all-out panic attack, but that was about all he could do.

Edward cradled her in his arms, finally rising and taking her to the library, the room she loved best in this big house. He hoped the ambiance would soothe her as it had many times before. Rosalie wordlessly followed him and kindled a fire in the grate, her eyes sad but not accusing, and she left after kissing Bella softly on the crown of her head.

"It's okay now," Edward murmured, knowing his words would do little good. "You're safe, Bella. Lovely, sweet, brave girl. You're fine."

"I don't want to see him," Bella said, her words garbled with tears. "I don't want to see him ever again!"

"I know you don't. I know." Edward wished with his whole heart that he could tell her she didn't have to see her father again for the rest of her life. If she begged, he suspected he'd give in and take her away where they couldn't be found. But running from the problem hadn't worked the first time, and he doubted it would work now. Bella needed to go back and face her father across a courtroom, to point to him and tell a jury exactly what the bastard had done to her. Only then would she be free of his influence, the fear hanging over her like a funeral pall. Under the circumstances, he couldn't quite bear to promise her she'd never have to see him again.

"Edward," she pleaded.

"What, baby?" he asked. "Whatever you want, it's yours. You're in charge now—you know that."

But she did not elaborate, instead tucking her head further under his chin as if trying to dig her way inside his skin. His sharp collarbone couldn't possibly be comfortable for her to lean on, but Edward refrained from trying to move her. No force in heaven or on earth could compel him to upset her right now.

Eventually, distraught by her continued tears, Edward began to talk. He kept his voice pitched low, just loud enough for her human ears to hear the soft, velvet words he murmured to her—only her. He told her everything in his heart—that she was his world, his light in the darkness. That he would give her anything she wanted, for real this time. Nobody would ever force her to do anything—never again. He spoke of his feelings, wishing he had the mouth of a poet rather than a musician. He  _knew_  he could make her understand better with a piano composition, but that just wasn't an option right now. His words were clumsy, stumbling from his mouth with little order, but he felt them to the depths of his soul—a soul he hadn't believed he retained until this fragile human girl shook it to its core.

He recited poetry—sonnets from Shakespeare, the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. "Do I dare/Disturb the universe?—I know the voices dying with a dying fall/Beneath the music from a farther room." Bella's tears did not dry, but there was a listening sort of silence from her and he hoped she found his voice soothing. Finally, finally she drifted into a light sleep, her breaths slowing, her eyes slipping closed. Edward knew that violently emotional reactions were not good for the child growing within her, but he couldn't possibly be mad at her. Not after what she'd gone through.

"I told you this was a bad idea," he mumbled, just loud enough for the others to hear.

"It had to be done," Jasper replied, his mind-voice full of remorse that Bella had become so upset. "Heidi has a chance to follow through now. Let's wait and see what she does. She said she would call Bella back, and I believe her when she says she doesn't go back on her word."

Edward bit back a sigh, gazing at the girl sleeping fitfully in his arms. She was everything to him—without her, his world went dark. He hated having to put her future in the hands of someone else. But what else could he possibly do? The law was the law. He could only hope the Heidi was able to find some way out of their predicament.

* * *

Charlie Swan stared dully at the screen in front of him, barely acknowledging the flashing colors of the game. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and it was shaping up to be the first Christmas he'd spent without Bella—ever. She always came to visit him for the holidays, her mother sending her on a plane from Phoenix, her suitcase full of shorts and t-shirts as if Renee hadn't lived for years on the Olympic peninsula. Charlie remembered when she was young, having to pick her up from an airline employee whose job it was to wait with unaccompanied minors. It was absolutely pointless. Isabella knew better than to misbehave, even when she was little. She knew the consequences for causing trouble.

Except, it seemed that all he'd taught her had gone out the window the moment she met those Cullens. They'd somehow convinced his daughter to run away—he  _knew_  they had. Bella wouldn't do that shit on her own. She wasn't that stupid. They'd obviously tricked her into it, and Bella was gullible enough to believe them. Whatever it was they'd promised her, he hoped they hadn't delivered. Serve her right for deserting him, and attempting to get the courts interested in him. Well, it wouldn't work. He was the fucking chief of police. Nobody would ever believe he would abuse his daughter. He'd simply tell them most of the truth—that Isabella did not care for his brand of discipline and, like most teenagers, she had a mind of her own. She was incapable of following rules and accepting punishments, and so she had run away.

Charlie only wished that he could tell the whole truth—that he'd restrained Bella in such a way that the bitch couldn't possibly have left the house on her own.  _Then_  everyone would know who was really at fault here—the Cullens. Whether they were all in cahoots or it was just that no-good boy, the pretty one he'd found in her room, Charlie neither knew nor cared. The important fact was that someone had come into his house and taken something that belonged to him. Bella was his— _his_! Not theirs. He  _owned_  her. Without him, she was nothing. Less than the dirt he tracked onto the carpet every night. He'd sent Renee part of his hard-earned paycheck every month, paying state-ordered child support for the girl, hadn't he? Didn't he deserve a return on that investment? A few months of his house being clean and his meals prepared wasn't nearly enough to pay back everything Isabella had cost him.

Though she'd been gone now for months, Charlie still believed she would return. One of two things would happen. Either the police would find her and haul her back home, or she'd come crawling back on her own once she realized that life was hard and she couldn't deal with it on her own. She was weak—weaker than Renee, even—and couldn't possibly hope to succeed in the world as an adult on her own.

 _But she's not alone_ , part of his mind insisted. It was the uncomfortable voice that came to him from time to time, the one he always managed to drown out with enough booze. Charlie took a swig from the bottle at his side, his mind wandering without his permission to the night he'd caught the Cullen boy in Isabella's room. It was the only time she'd ever tried to stand up to him, to tell him to stop. The boy had obviously caused her bad behavior—that wasn't surprising. Bella was as gullible as they came. What  _was_  surprising to Charlie was the strange light in her dark eyes when she looked at the pretty boy. She looked...almost pretty, and that was certainly never something he'd ever expected of his mousy, uncoordinated daughter.

Renee had never looked at  _him_  that way. No woman ever had.

The old phone on the wall in the kitchen rang, and Charlie cursed as he groaned to his feet, stumbling toward the incessant sound. Usually he'd just as soon let it ring, but since Bella left he'd had to play the concerned father for the local media and various law enforcement teams searching the country for her. It was not wise to leave the phone unanswered under those circumstances.

Grumbling all the while, he finally reached the phone. Swaying a little unsteadily on his feet, he lifted the receiver. "Yeah?" he said, hoping he didn't sound too slurred. Fuck, it was only seven in the evening. He shouldn't have to worry about  _that_  for another couple of hours at least.

"Chief, glad you're home."

Charlie made a face and wished he hadn't picked up the phone. It was Garrett Garcia, the lawyer on retainer with Forks Police Department. He took care of any and all legal matters for the department, and he was good at his job. He'd been more or less representing Charlie since that nosy social worker started poking around after Isabella's disappearance. Garcia wasn't a bad guy, but Charlie had no wish to deal with the bitch from the state and the lawyer seemed to think that was a bad idea.

"No news from my Bella," Charlie said, leaning against the wall. Garcia had never once asked him if he abused his daughter. He seemed happy to work on the assumption that the charges were false, no matter how much he disliked Charlie's way of handling them. "This will be the first Christmas I have to spend without her."

"Sorry, Charlie, but we've got bigger problems."

"Like what?" Charlie asked, narrowing his eyes as he stared into the filthy kitchen, dishes overflowing on the counters and in the sink, old pizza boxes and takeout containers littering the floor and spilling out of the trash can. God damn it, Bella was supposed to deal with things like this!

"Like a new court date."

Charlie made a dismissive sound. "They've postponed the preliminary hearing twice now. I'm sure they'll do it again."

"Not for that." Garcia paused, sounding a little uncomfortable. "This is a family court date, Chief."

"I don't understand."

The lawyer tried to explain. Charlie hated the slightly patronizing ring in his tone, but the man was working for him for free, so what was he supposed to do? He didn't have the money to pay a real lawyer. "The preliminary hearing is for your criminal trial. That's the kind of court you see on TV, the kind you've testified in. Family court is different. This isn't about criminal charges. It's to determine whether the state has reason to terminate your parental rights. Everyone will sit together at a table in a private room—you, the judge, the social worker—and you'll—"

Charlie stopped listening. Rage churned like the alcohol in his stomach, exhaled like fumes through his nose. Now, on top of trying to press criminal charges, they were trying to take Isabella away from him, too? To terminate his  _rights_  to the girl? Oh, no. No. That was  _not_  going to happen. She belonged to him, goddamn it, and no bleeding-heart judge or fucking social worker was going to mess with that!

"They can't take my daughter from me!" he snapped into the phone, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be playing the role of the distraught father. All he could repeat in his mind was that Isabella was  _his_. She belonged to him. He  _owned_  her. And the state wanted to take her away, legally? Make it so Charlie couldn't see her, couldn't tell her what to do, couldn't discipline her and mold her into a proper young woman? Oh, no. That was absolutely unacceptable.

"Look, Chief, I know this is upsetting, but haven't you been receiving letters in the mail about this? You had to know it was going to happen at some point. It's just that they've set a date now." The lawyer sounded a little unsure, and Charlie immediately tried to pull his usual facade over his fury. So sue him that he'd been pitching every letter from the state into the trash without opening it. He didn't want to hear anything they had to say.

"I just...why now?" he lamented, controlling the anger in his voice. "It's Christmas! And isn't it a moot point anyway? Isabella is missing. Wouldn't it make more sense to not even bother having a trial or whatever-you-call-it until she comes back?"

"Well, in a way," Garcia hedged, "but the social worker's real set on getting this done right away. As soon as possible. Since she found a family court judge that's amenable, we only have a short time to prepare. The courts are closed between Christmas and New Year's, but your family court date is January second. That means we've got a little over a week to build a compelling case as to why your daughter should remain in your custody."

"I shouldn't have to fight for the right to my own flesh and blood," Charlie whined.

"Sorry, Chief." The lawyer sounded distinctly uncomfortable. "Look, when's a good time to meet and go over our strategy?"

"I don't care," Charlie said morosely. "There's no reason to have Christmas without Bells here."

"I have a family, too," Garcia said. "Does the twenty-sixth work for you?"

"Sure," Charlie said blankly. He had absolutely no idea what they could possibly do or say to make anyone believe Bella was better off in his care—nor should he  _have_  to. She belonged to him. Whatever he chose to do with her behind closed doors was nobody else's goddamn business.

And, Charlie vowed, when he saw that girl again, she was going to pay dearly for the hell she was currently putting him through.

* * *

"Bella. Bella, honey."

Esme smiled, her beautiful amber eyes sparkling as she stroked the sleeping girl's pale cheek. Edward watched, his brow furrowed in concern, as his mother gently woke her.

"Esme?" Bella blinked sleepily, narrowing her eyes at the light of the fire. "What—?"

"Heidi just called Carlisle," Esme said, her voice full of barely-contained excitement. "You need to be awake because she'll probably try to call you soon. Oh, honey—you did it!"

"What did I do?" Bella asked hesitantly, sitting up on her air mattress and rubbing at her squinted eyes. Her voice was still bleary and full of sleep.

"You got through to her," Esme said, cupping Bella's cheeks in her hands and kissing her forehead. "Baby, I'm so proud of you! I know it wasn't easy, but you did it. We have a family court date in just over a week. Bella, they're going to terminate your father's custody. You'll be ours, honey—ours for good."

Bella's dark eyes widened, and she stared first at Esme, then Edward, as if willing them to confirm the news, confirm that this wasn't just a dream. "I'd ask you to pinch me," she murmured, "but I don't think you would."

"Absolutely not," Edward growled.

Bella threw her arms around Esme's shoulders, gripping her tightly. "Esme," she said, her voice swollen with the tears she was sick of crying. "Mom."

"Yes, honey," Esme confirmed, holding her close. "We're one step closer to that goal. I'll be your mom, and you'll never have to worry about Charlie again."

Right. Just one step closer. There were many more to go, but at least now, for the first time in a long time, the goal actually felt like it was within reach.

Freedom.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

"Bella. Bella?"

"I'm here."

Heidi's voice on the other end of the line turned into an outpouring of relief. "Oh, Bella, I'm so glad you answered!"

"I said I would," Bella replied softly. Esme stroked her hair, smoothing the wayward strands back away from her face. Bella had been asleep, exhausted by the near panic attack she'd suffered during the previous phone call, but now she felt wide awake and on edge. Esme's cold body around her and Edward hovering nearby were a welcome, soothing balm.

"I know you did," Heidi agreed. "But you were pretty upset when we spoke last. I didn't know if you would be willing to talk again."

"I said I would," Bella repeated. "I'm not a liar."

"I know, honey. I know." Heidi paused for a moment, and Bella breathed slowly through the silence. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Repeat. The steady pressure of Esme's arms around her calmed and centered her, and she nestled close to the older woman.

"I spoke with a family court judge, Bella," Heidi said. "You're on the docket for January second. That's just a week or so, honey. What do you think?"

Bella felt her eyes fill, but she blinked back the sudden rush of tears. Hearing it from Esme was wonderful, but the same news from Heidi almost...made it more real, somehow. This was a social worker— _her_  caseworker—telling her that in a few days—a blink of an eye, really—she would be able to tell the courts that Charlie was an unfit parent. If all went well, she would be taken from his custody and given permanently to the Cullens.

 _And if all doesn't go well?_  the small voice in the back of her mind asked, but Bella shoved that thought away. She couldn't think like that right now. Not if she wanted to keep it together during this phone call.

"Bella?" Heidi said. "Bella, did you hear me?"

"I heard you." Her voice was shaky with repressed tears, but Bella knew she had no hope of steadying it. Not when it felt like maybe, just maybe, she could have a chance at life with a loving family—a home where Charlie could not touch her. "That's soon."

"That's what you needed from me," Heidi replied. "I'm so, so sorry that I didn't see it earlier, Bella. I should have known. The first time I laid eyes on you, I should have known."

Bella kept quiet. That was what she'd wished so desperately for, when she was in the hospital. She didn't want to see the baby—didn't want to have anything to do with it. But she'd hoped and prayed that someone—a doctor, maybe—would see past Charlie's mask and know that she desperately needed help. It was a foolish wish, she supposed—how was anyone supposed to know when she couldn't tell them? But she had wanted it, just the same.

"I am going to do everything I can for you now," Heidi promised, and the steel in her voice told Bella that she meant it. "I'm afraid I don't have as much influence regarding the criminal trial—you know the difference, don't you, Bella? In family court, they only want to know whether your father is a fit or unfit parent. It decides your placement as a juvenile, nothing more. But if he's found unfit, he won't be able to hurt you anymore and the Cullens will get to keep you."

"What about Renee?" Bella asked softly. She understood that the family court hearing was only one step in a very long journey, but it felt important nonetheless. Surely if a family court judge decreed Charlie unfit, that would make it easier for a criminal trial to end in her favor? But if Charlie was deemed unfit, wouldn't that mean Renee would automatically become her guardian?

"That's a very good question," Heidi said approvingly. I'm glad that you're trying to think about this rationally. You're right—with Charlie out of the picture, Renee automatically gains custody. But she's already voiced the opinion that she believes your father, honey. I'm sorry."

"I want to stay with the Cullens anyway," Bella whispered. "She can believe whatever she wants. But will the judge make me go to Florida if I can't go back to Charlie?"

"I've been in contact with your mother, and she says she's amenable to giving up her parental rights," Heidi said slowly, as if unsure of Bella's reaction. "I don't have the actual paperwork yet with her signature, but I have hope, Bella."

Bella did, too. She let out a sigh, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders relax, her soft human body settling further into Esme's supportive embrace. "Good," she said simply. Renee hadn't hurt her nearly as much as Charlie had, but she was still far from reconciled with her mother. Renee had allowed the abuse—had punished Bella, accusing her of spouting lies the one time she tried to tell. She was so alone, even in Phoenix where she had a small circle of casual friends. Her life had never been normal. Her parents had not  _let_  it be normal.

"Now that we're clear on that," Heidi said carefully, "will you tell me where you are, Bella?"

Bella exhaled slowly. This was an issue she'd spoken about with the Cullens. They needed to proceed delicately so that nobody knew Bella was actually with them all along. "No," she said, "but I'll come back. I'll be there in time for family court, if you promise me I can go back to the Cullens."  
"You can go to the Cullens until the hearing," Heidi said, "of course. Because your father is under investigation, it's not prudent to have you in his company right now."

Prudent. It seemed such...such an odd word for their situation, though Bella supposed that, from a legal perspective, the social worker was probably right.

"But after the hearing, you  _must_  abide by the judge's ruling. I can't change that. I can tell you that I've reviewed the evidence Doctor Cullen collected, including the video recording he made of you telling your story. I can tell you that I, personally, find it both compelling and utterly believable. I wouldn't be on the phone with you right now if I didn't. But you must understand that I can't guarantee an outcome based on someone else's decision."

"I understand," Bella said quietly, looking at Edward across the room with big, haunted eyes. He looked right back at her, his expression pained but resolute. Though he had said nothing about it to her, Bella understood what was in his heart. If the judge ruled against them and tried to send her back to Charlie, Edward was going to kill her father. They were playing by human rules right now, but they didn't need to if they didn't want to. They had a million ways to make it look like an accident, or to make Charlie just...disappear.

In a way, she thought, it would be so much easier if Charlie died. He would be gone—unable to hurt her anymore. Unable to threaten the Cullens, unable to tear apart this odd family they'd somehow built. But her loyalty was to Edward and his family, and because of that loyalty she did not want Charlie's blood on their hands. Even if Edward relished the job—which she was pretty sure he would, given the opportunity—she didn't want him to do it. Not for Charlie's sake, but for Edward's. She'd read his journals. He had enough blood on his hands, and she had no wish to add to it. Let the courts do their job, and leave violence out of it.

"I'm glad," Heidi said. "You know, you're very mature for your age, Bella. You understand so much."

"I had to grow up fast," Bella said softly.

There was a pause. "I'm not a psychologist, Bella. I've had some of the training, and loads of experience with hurt, frightened children, but that doesn't make me qualified to pick apart your brain for you. But...can I offer you one suggestion?"

"Okay?" Bella's voice cracked, and she cleared her throat nervously as she tried to steel herself for whatever Heidi was going to say. Would it be bad? Some sort of scathing remark about Bella's inability to handle things without falling apart? Heidi had been nothing but kind so far, but Bella's trust in humanity was severely depleted at this point and she did not know where, other than the Cullens, to turn for support.

"It's nothing bad, Bella. Just something to think about. You know, it's okay to dislike them. Charlie and Renee. It's okay to get mad at them. It's okay to admit to yourself that they both did things that hurt you. I don't know you very well, but you seem like the type of girl who carries a lot of weight on her shoulders. It's okay to let go of some of that guilt, Bella. You had nothing to do with it, no matter what he said or what she did, no matter what it felt like at the time or feels like now. I know it isn't easy to change patterns of thought and, like I said, I'm not a psychologist. Just...try to think about it a little bit?"

"Okay," Bella whispered into the phone. She murmured her parting words, then disconnected the call.

Esme's arms were around her, and she rested her head on the smooth angle of the woman's shoulder. She was wearing a rich, soft cashmere sweater, and Bella rubbed her cheek against the weaving, savoring the touch.

"It's okay," Esme soothed. "It's all over now." She kissed the top of Bella's head, and Bella nuzzled closer. She sought warmth, but not the physical kind that radiated from the fireplace. She wanted the kind of emotional warmth so long denied her, both by Renee's distraction and Charlie's violence. For a moment, just a moment, she ached to be a little girl again—the little girl she was never allowed to be. She wondered what it would have been like to grow up here, under Esme's loving gaze. To have hugs whenever she wanted them, someone to help with homework when she was confused, comfort her when she had nightmares. The things every small child should have. "Mom," she murmured, nuzzling closer to Esme's cool shoulder. She had called her this once before, when Esme first woke her this night. But it was the first time in a very long time that she'd called  _anyone_  that. Renee had insisted on being called by her name, since "mom" made her feel old. Bella supposed she might have used the word  _mommy_  to Renee when she was very small, but if so, she didn't remember.

"Yes, honey," Esme said softly. "I will gladly be that for you, if you want me to."

Bella closed her eyes. Edward was close, and Esme's arms were wrapped firmly around her. They were possibly her two favorite people in the world, and she had them both with her again, finally—at last. She had always called Renee her mom to other people— _my mother says I can't eat ice cream_ , or  _My mom forgot that she signed up to go on the field trip with us—_ but the word had never felt genuine falling from her lips. Now, with Esme, it did. "I love you," she said.

"Oh, baby, I love you, too. We all do. And we are so, so proud of you, Bella. I know this process of dealing with the courts won't be easy for you, but I truly believe it will be best for us all. We'll get to keep you legally, and no one will be able to take you away from us again."

Bella nodded. She understood. No, this would not be an easy hill to climb, but she would gladly do it if it meant she could keep the Cullens. She was not a child any longer and could not simply revert into the childhood she'd never been allowed to have. But she  _could_  make the most of every day she had with them, grateful for what she had now, even if she did not have it then.

"You should try to sleep some more," Esme suggested. "I'm sorry we had to wake you in the middle of the night. Heidi is eight hours behind us, remember. She has no idea she was disturbing your rest."

"I know. It's okay." Bella rubbed her eyes. Her body felt tired, yes, but her mind, oddly, did not seem to want to turn off. Adrenaline rushed through her system, a kind of surreal elation that finally, finally she was going to be able to get away from Charlie for good. But also worry that they might fail, that she might be given back to him, and what that would mean for everyone involved.

Her thoughts would not let her sleep right now, and Bella knew this. She looked at Edward, unsure how to voice her request.

But the words weren't needed. As soon as Edward saw her eyes, he understood. The small, playful smile she loved so much hovered on his lips, and his own eyes sparkled back at her. "I think I can take it from here, Esme."

"Then that's my cue to leave." She kissed Bella's forehead, her hand on her warm cheek. "I really am proud of you, baby. Just a little longer and this will all be over."

Bella nodded, and she squeezed Esme's hand once before the older woman took her leave, shutting the door behind her and leaving Edward and Bella alone in the library.

"What's the matter, love?" he asked as he settled her back on her air mattress, helping pile blankets on top of her. "I could tell from your eyes that you wanted to talk, but not why."

"I can't sleep," Bella said, pulling on his sleeve until he joined her on the mattress. "After that phone call, I know I won't be able to." Her cheeks lit with rosy color, and she bit her lower lip enticingly.

"Ah." Edward's smile shifted into something entirely different. "Would you like me to read to you again, perhaps?"

"No." Bella bit harder on her lip. "Please, Edward."

"You never have to ask for love, Bella," he said, all the teasing melting away. "It's yours. Even if you decide you don't want it anymore, it will always be yours."

"I know," Bella whispered, and she did. As his body aligned with hers, side by side on the wobbly air mattress, she understood the finality of this kind of love. She would  _always_  have Edward—forever. He was hers and she, also, was his. That she would have to eventually be turned into a vampire, too, to stay with him, Bella already knew. But it was a moot point at the moment, while a living child lay within her. Right now, she was content to accept the love he offered and try to return it as much as she could. She basked in this new reality of touch without pain, and every time his cold hands ghosted over her fire-warmed skin, Bella shivered with delight. His mouth found hers, the first kiss almost a question, a hesitant touch feathered upon her lips, only deepened when her hands cupped his cheeks and held him to her.

He was beautiful to her eyes, and lovely to her hands. She traced the sinewy-sharp lines of his arms, firm muscle under cold skin, letting him ease her gently to her back as he kissed her deeply. Ever gentle, as if she could shatter in his hands, he caressed her shoulders and the angle of her now-healed collarbone, kissing along the edge of her jaw. Bella breathed deeply, her eyes fluttering closed as she abandoned herself to the pleasure of touch—of closeness. He was cold, but she welcomed the chill that sent goosebumps racing along her arms. That unnatural coldness was what originally made her able to tolerate the Cullens' touch when she shied away from human contact—they did not feel like anyone else. Their hands were not hot and moist, and their bodies smelled pleasant to her—not of sweat and unclean male skin. Edward wore no cologne, his sensitive nose unable to bear something so strong, but his smoky-sweet smell warmed and comforted her as she buried her nose in the crook of his neck, kissing his cold skin.

Immediately he began to purr, the buzzing sound deep and strong. His lovely golden eyes were half-lidded when she raised her head to look, and the expression of peace on his face took her breath away. Yes, she realized that this whole ordeal had not been easy for him, either, but only now as he held her in his arms in the solitude of her library did he look truly at peace.

"Bella..." he murmured, and she ghosted her fingers across his lips. He kissed the tips, watching her reverently. "I'd give up forever if I had to. Just to see that look in your eyes."

She knew exactly what he meant.

His kiss, when it came, was slow and sensual—unhurried. "I want to marry you," he said softly.

"I know." The words were out of her mouth before she realized their truth. Yes, she did in fact know that Edward wanted to marry her, though she hadn't really consciously thought about the fact. He was from another time. Marriage, to him, was probably the deepest expression of love and commitment. For her part, Bella was not entirely against the idea if it made him happy. She did not place importance on the ritual as Edward seemed to, but she would do it for him if he wanted to. What harm could it possibly do? They would be together regardless.

"You can be a Cullen," he added, smiling at her. "I'm not going to ask you now. You have enough to deal with at the moment. Just...I just wanted you to know."

"I already knew." She stroked her hand down his cheek, wove her fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I see it in the way you look at me." An involuntary shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature of his skin rippled down her spine. "No one's ever looked at me the way you do."

"I'd kill any man who dared," Edward growled, but he yielded to her tug at his hair and brought his lips to hers. Bella smiled into the kiss, arching against him as his hands found the curve of her back. "Or at least maim him. Maim  _badly_." He mumbled the words against her mouth, then kissed her again.

"Now you sound like Emmett." Bella laughed softly, but the giggle was turned into a breathy gasp as his hand found its way under her shirt, slipping across her soft belly and up her ribcage.

"Relax," Edward murmured, his voice the softest whisper as he eased her shirt over her head. Her nipples tightened as his cold body came in contact with her flesh, and she pressed herself firmly against him. "You know I won't hurt you. I couldn't."

"I know." She kissed him, melting into the air-filled mattress as his hands closed over her breasts, his thumbs rubbing the nipples softly. The cold of his fingers on her skin felt absolutely delicious. He was perfectly gentle, handling her as if she were as fragile as a flower, easily bruised or broken. To him, she probably was.

"You taste...I can't describe it." He let his mouth fall to her collarbone, licking and sucking at her skin, never letting his razor sharp teeth get close to the fragile barrier. "I can't get enough of you." His mouth traveled down her chest, working its way slowly toward a nipple. She exhaled deeply, a small whine of pleasure escaping her mouth when he let his tongue flicker over the hardened flesh. In this moment if he asked for a taste of her blood she would probably give him permission. She trusted him fully—explicitly—with her life. But he did not entirely trust himself, and Bella understood that. So she kept her thoughts to herself, glad that he could not read them, and focused on the marvelous things his mouth was doing to her body.

One of his hands left her shoulder to run up her throat and brush fingertips against her jaw. Bella turned her head and took his finger into her mouth, loving the low groan that left his lips as she ran her tongue across his cool skin, sucking gently, then pulling back so she could nibble softly on the very tip of his finger.

He pulled his hand away a moment later, the silent request for permission glimmering in his eyes as he rested his fingers against the waistband of the pajama pants Alice had given her. Bella nodded, running her hand through his soft, oddly-colored hair, and took the opportunity to tug on his shirt until he removed it.

"Once this is all settled, we're going to be so happy," Edward murmured, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close once her pants were cast aside. "We can travel—go somewhere, wherever you want. Just you and me, or the whole family if you'd rather. Whatever you want, sweet girl."

Gathering courage, Bella slipped a hand between their tangled bodies and hesitantly touched the telltale hardness between his legs. "Here and now, Edward. That's all I want. You, in this moment."

"Please, yes." He pressed himself against her hand and Bella squeezed, earning another groan. "Kiss me?" he asked, his face a mask of desire.

Bella snaked her neck forward, slipping her lips around the lobe of his ear before he turned his head and caught her mouth. He tasted wonderful—clean and sharp-sweet, and she felt the flush of  _want_  lighting her skin, her flesh catching fire and burning against him. Never in her life had she thought being with a man could feel like this. As a young girl she was not terribly interested in boys, and the few who had kissed her shyly once or twice in Phoenix were definitely lacking in the skill department. She'd never known—never realized. Then, after her father's friend had held her down and  _forced_  her—taken what was not rightfully his to take—she'd been sure she would never willingly touch a man again.

Edward had changed that. And maybe the fact that he was not  _quite_  a man—a living one, anyway—helped, but she rather thought it was mostly the fact that she loved him. He was gentle and sweet, and he cared about her comfort and pleasure above all else. The way he looked at her through slightly lowered eyelids, the tempting glint of topaz hiding behind his thick lashes, took her breath away. How could she possibly say no to that?

She couldn't—nor did she want to. Bella let her eyes fall shut, her hands stroking his hair as he worked his way down her torso, kissing and sucking on her skin, leaving cold little patches of wetness that bloomed red against the paleness of the rest of her. He swirled his tongue in the hollow of her belly button, used his lips to nibble at her hipbones, kissing his way from right to left, then following the hesitant crease of flesh where her thighs met. Heart pounding, Bella did not protest as he parted her legs and settled between them. He'd never done this to her before, but she trusted him.

"I need to taste you," he murmured against the white flesh of her inner thigh, tracing his lips up the shuddering skin. "Just relax and feel."

She settled back, trying to ease some of the automatic tension in her body at the new, somewhat awkward position they were in. He breathed softly between her legs, a burst of cold air intense against her wet flesh.

"Smell so good," he murmured. "I need..." Edward's voice trailed off as he placed the softest, gentlest kiss against her labia, and Bella felt her breath catch in her throat.

It was a strange feeling, different from his hands, but so intense. So good. Her body both relaxed and tightened simultaneously in preparation for his next touch.

His tongue slid slowly against her folds and then between them, sending tingling ripples of sensation through her body. Instead of focusing all his attention on her clit, he used lips and tongue and even his nose to lick and suckle at various parts of her sensitive flesh, producing a wealth of different responses. His cold breath in the soft patch of curls above her labia tickled and made her squirm. When he found her entrance with his tongue and lapped eagerly at the moisture leaking from her, she shivered in delight and couldn't repress the soft moan that tore from her throat. The pressure of his tongue as he eased inside was cold but wonderful, and she gripped the sheet below her with tight fists.

Edward was purring again, and when he finally circled closer to her clit, the vibration almost sent her over the edge immediately. She bleated softly, her entire body lost in the sudden, intense pleasure, her internal muscles squeezing rhythmically as if to warn her she was close.

"What is it? Edward asked, refusing to remove his mouth from her flesh even as he spoke. "God, Bella, you taste amazing. There was something there that you liked. What was it?" He mouthed her clit almost playfully, and Bella felt herself clench again.

"P-purr," she gasped, one of her hands releasing the sheet only to find his hair. "Edward..."

His purr intensified, coupled with a low noise that told her in no uncertain terms that he was pleased both with her answer and with the soft tug in his hair.

Trying to talk or think was impossible, and Bella felt herself drawing tighter before she exploded, a rush of intense pleasure swirling through her body like a wave, leaving her liquid and pliable. She writhed against his ongoing touch, dancing the subtle line between exquisite pleasure and the beginning of too much. But the moment her breathing hitched and her body tensed against instead of with him, Edward stopped. He kissed the inside of her thigh, working his way back up her body, feathering light, gentle kisses along her damp skin as she caught her breath and pressed herself against him.

"You are amazing," he murmured, ghosting his lips lightly against hers. She could smell herself on him, which was strange but not unpleasant. "I'm going to do that every day you'll let me—I mean it."

Bella had no answer to that, but she held his body to hers as he slid off his pants. The things he could do with his mouth were amazing, but there was something about the connection when he was buried deep inside her that she yearned for. She lifted her hips eagerly to him as he eased gently inside her, her spine melting into the mattress as his cold length settled deeply within. Her soft sigh of completion joined with his, warm and cold mingling before he kissed her again.

As always, he was gentle and slow. Bella had a feeling that sex with Edward would always be like this—tender rather than frenzied. He had an amazing amount of self-control in most areas, and he was adamant that he would not hurt her. For her part, Bella didn't know if she'd ever feel ready to be sexually adventurous, even with Edward. Even after she was turned and presumably no longer so breakable. Some things, only time would tell.

And Edward did not seem unfulfilled or upset by the fact that he could only touch her gently. His eyes gleamed golden in the firelight, his mouth constantly attached either to hers or to some other part of her body. He tucked his head into the curve of her neck, murmuring words of love as he moved above her—within her. It was delicious, intimate and sweet, something that only the two of them would ever share. Only this, she vowed, holding her mouth against his bare shoulder, feeling his movement deep within her. Only him. They did not work well alone any longer—her time with Alice had taught her that. She needed him like sunshine, brooding though he was. Esme and Rosalie were her rocks, but Edward was her sun.

When she came this time, the pleasure rolling through her body, lighting her nerves and making her skin tingle, Edward was right behind her. His purr intensified until a strangled groan broke from his lips, muffled against her shoulder, and his hard body tightened, his hips pressed flush against hers for a long moment before he relaxed.

"Never let me go," Bella asked, tucking herself into the safety of his arms.

"Never," he agreed, smoothing back her sweaty hair. He slipped out of her, his mouth still pressing kisses against her skin. Bella touched his lips with hers, feeling a warm, drowsy contentment roll through her body. Her eyelids fluttered, but she resisted as he tried to pull away and wrap her in blankets again.

"I'll hold you," he promised, kissing her again. "I'm not going anywhere. But you'll freeze if you sleep skin-to-skin with me. Remember?"

Yes. Unfortunately, she did remember. Bella held in her protests as he tucked blankets around her, then wrapped his body around her cocoon. "I love you," she said softly, reaching out of the warm nest to stroke his cheek. "Thank you, Edward."

"You have nothing to thank me for, love. Sleep now, please? You need your rest."

Bella smiled to herself, snuggling deeper into the firm clasp of his arms. Yes, the Edward she had known from the beginning was still there—still wanting her to do things his way. But instead of a command, he had offered her a question. A request, nothing more. Somehow, knowing she had the ability to refuse made all the difference. Bella felt her eyes drift shut, and the last thing she heard was Edward's low, soft voice.

"Merry Christmas, Bella."

* * *

But when Bella woke again, it was with other words of his haunting her dreams and thoughts. She pressed close to his body, exhaling a soft breath into his shoulder.

"What's got you looking so pensive this early in the morning?" Edward kissed her hair, one of his arms stroking lightly down her back. She could feel the pressure even through the thick cocoon of blankets she was tangled in.

Bella wasn't sure she wanted to talk about this right now. Knowing Edward, though, he would sulk and worry that she was angry with him if she didn't tell. The sulking she could handle, but the worry she could not. Knowing she had caused him pain was something she just couldn't deal with. And so, her voice low and hesitant she answered. "His name is Frank. Frank Zinecki."

Edward's arms instantly tightened around her, and the low growl in his throat told her that he knew exactly who she was talking about.

"You said last night that you would kill anyone who looked at me."

"I did," Edward agreed. Technically his words had been  _any man who dared_  to look at her the way he did. Well, Frank had never looked at her the way Edward did. Not even remotely. There had been no emotion in his eyes except for a hungry kind of...anger? She couldn't quite define his look, but she knew she would never forget it.

"Are you going to kill him?" Bella asked simply. There was no beating around the bush here, no way to approach the topic delicately. Edward was a possessive, protective man, and he had a violent streak due to his vampire nature. She trusted that he would never physically harm her, but she also knew that he had killed before for much less.

"Will you let me?" There was a strange eagerness in his voice, overlaid by caution. This was an extremely delicate subject, and they both knew it. This man had hurt her badly. She had been changed by his violence in ways that could never be taken back, and he was currently walking free...in a police uniform, no less.

In a way, it would be so much easier to just give Edward permission. He would hunt him down, cornering his prey like the animal Frank was. No doubt it would give her lover a degree of satisfaction he could never have in court, but still she balked. Not at the thought of Frank losing his life, but at painting the blood on Edward's hands with her own words.

"I guess we'll have to go back to court," she said with a sigh, turning her cheek against his shoulder.

"Whatever you want, sweet girl." Edward stroked her shoulder. "You know that any and every member of this family would gladly tear him to pieces. But it's your decision to make. It's your life. I promised you I wouldn't dictate anymore, and I won't."

Bella nestled against him. What did she want? She honestly didn't know.

No, that wasn't true. She knew. She was angry at Frank, much angrier than she'd ever been at Charlie. Growing up, she didn't know  _how_  to be angry at Charlie, only frightened. Even now, Heidi's parting words made her intensely uncomfortable. Yes, she knew she had the right to be angry with him—intellectually, at least. But emotions were not intellectual. They weren't rational. Inside, she was still at least partially the cowering child too scared to allow herself the luxury of anger.

But with Frank, she had no such compunctions. She was  _furious_  at him, and what he had done to her. He'd made her live with deep, deep shame that even now she felt when she paid attention to it. He'd forced upon her a child she did not want while she was still a child herself, and while partially that was Charlie's fault for not allowing her a choice, Frank was the one who put her in this impossible situation to begin with. And yes, it seemed to all have worked out for the best—Rosalie had the child she'd always yearned for—but that did not excuse the inherent wrongness of Frank's actions.

Yes, she could definitely be angry at him. Angry enough that bitter tears stung her eyes, because she knew she would never be able to confront him the way she wanted to. She was too shy, too retiring, and she didn't have the physical strength to hurt him as he'd hurt her. Edward could wrench the man apart with barely a thought, but she was a human girl, and a small one at that. Though a part of her badly wanted to hurt him herself, she would never be able to.

"I can't just let him stay free," Bella said. "What if he hurts someone else? It would be my fault."

"He probably will, or already has. For predators, assault is rarely a one-time thing. But it's not your fault, sweetheart, nor would it be in the future. Society has a sick habit of blaming victims for their assailant's actions. It's not fair and it's not just. You need to take it easy on yourself. If you want him dead, I'll kill him. If you want him behind bars, we can prosecute. Or you can focus on Charlie for now and decide afterward what you want to do about the bastard. It's your life—your choice."

Bella smiled through the sudden sting of tears. She held them back, letting Edward hold her, rubbing her back and soothing her keyed-up emotions. She tried to focus on the present—where she was, and what she was doing. She was warm and safe, firmly held in Edward's arms. The Cullens were here, the first and only real family she'd ever known. She was well fed and rested, and for the first time in her life, here in this manor house she had been whole and unbroken—save for the accident with her collarbone—for months on end. She carried Edward's child within her, and while they did not know exactly what form this hybrid baby would take, she was not afraid. Nothing of Edward's could ever be bad.

"Your heartbeat is the most beautiful sound in the world," he murmured softly. "And now I get to hear two of them."

"What does the baby's heart sound like?" she asked, slipping her hand down to touch the barely-there swelling of her stomach.

"It's a little flutter—almost a hum. Fast and steady." His voice was wondering and soft, a tone she was quickly learning to associate with conversations about their child. "I hope she's a little girl—a baby girl with sweet brown eyes, like her mother."

A girl? Surprise shook Bella, and she chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip as she turned the idea over in her head. Honestly, she hadn't ever really considered it. Mason had been something terrifying that was happening  _to_  her body, not a child in her own mind. Then he was born, and he obviously looked more like Frank than like her. Even if Charlie had let her, she would not have wanted to keep him. He was the son of her attacker, a man who she thought had ruined her life.

The Cullens had rescued her, and now she held another baby warm and safe inside her body and Edward was calling it a girl. Bella closed her eyes, picturing herself holding a pink-wrapped baby in her arms. Surprisingly, the thought wasn't so frightening. A girl—a little girl she could love and protect. This girl would have a loving father, one who would never raise a hand to her in anger. Edward would protect her as she grew, not letting anyone like Frank get near her. He could read the thoughts and intentions of everyone except Bella. He would know for certain what kind of people she was with.

A strange feeling of certainty flowed through Bella, and she pressed her hand a little firmer against her belly, rubbing the skin with her thumb. "I think she is," she said softly.

The gleam in Edward's eyes was beautifully bright.

 


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella took a deep breath and pressed closer to Edward's side as she approached the security and customs checkpoint. She'd nibbled her lower lip nearly raw and had to stop herself from chewing on it, reminding herself that she was traveling with a group of vampires who, no matter how in control they were, could turn on her if they scented blood. She took another breath, feeling a little dizzy as the line inched her closer to the checkpoint.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Edward murmured, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. His arm was firm around her waist, and she was thankful for the contact.

"They'll know you're using fake documents if you keep freaking out," Emmett joked from behind them, and Edward scowled at his brother.

"Don't listen to him," he soothed. "If anybody questions anything, we'll just tell them that you're a nervous flier. Everything will be fine."

Bella nodded distractedly, clutching Edward's hand as it rested against her stomach. Honestly, it  _was_  the documents she was worried about. She was old hat at flying, having been schlepped between Renee and Charlie for most of her childhood. But today she wasn't traveling as Bella Swan, a girl who had been reported as missing and whose photo had been disseminated among whatever news outlets would pay attention to a lost teenager. Today she was Bonnie Cullen, adopted daughter of Carlisle and Esme Cullen, and she had a passport and driver's license to prove it. How the Cullens got their contraband IDs, she didn't want to guess. But she supposed it was necessary for people who did not age or die.

Christmas had been a quiet affair, almost exactly as she'd asked. Emmett and Alice had hung mistletoe in nearly every doorway in the manor, snapping playful photos as their family members obeyed the tradition. There were no presents, no feast, just as Bella had requested...almost. To her surprise, the Cullens had presented her with her "birthday" presents all over again—her necklace from Esme, new cell phone from Carlisle, and the keys to her shiny black Volvo. Emmett and Jasper apologized for the fact that the pinball machine couldn't be shipped across the Atlantic in time, but promised her as many lessons as she wanted once they got back home.

 _Home._  It was such a simple word, but Bella wasn't at all sure what it meant to her anymore. She touched Esme's necklace, clasped around her throat, and felt her lips turn up in a soft smile. Charlie wasn't home to her, nor would he ever be. Renee had given up that designation when she married Phil, sold their house, and bought an RV. Bella knew with unflinching certainty that with the Cullens she would always be home. She just wasn't sure anymore where she most wanted to stay. Part of her was happy to return to the beautiful modern house in Forks, to "her" room, the familiar forest, and the soft, steady drip of rain. But another part of her would miss Ellison House, and what she and the others had wrought here. The library she had rescued from dereliction. Alice's art studio. The unfinished renovations that Esme promised would continue, though the family had to return to Forks to deal with the court system. Bella had been miserable here, frightened and alone, but she had also been happy. The baby growing within her had been conceived in Ellison House. It almost felt like both their lives had started here—one conceived, the other re-conceived...reimagined.

"We can come back," Edward said softly. "We can come back as often as you like, just as soon as we get rid of Charlie."

Bella smiled into the soft fabric of his shirt. "I thought you said you couldn't read my mind."

"I can't," he told her gently, his arm cool and steady around her, "but I can see your beautiful eyes. You look wistful."

"I guess I am," Bella admitted. "I wasn't happy that you brought me here, but I think...I think, after everything, it was where I finally found myself. And I have you and Alice to thank for that."

Edward smiled, though his eyes looked pained. "I can't be sorry that I took you away from Charlie," he admitted, "but I will always regret causing you pain, and I'm going to spend the rest of forever proving it to you."

Bella leaned against him, calmer now as they neared the security checkpoint. Edward, Carlisle, Esme, and the rest of them wouldn't let anything happen to her. Despite the odds, she'd somehow stumbled into a family— _her_  family. She would never be alone or in need again, just as she would do her utmost to prevent those things from happening to another Cullen.

Edward settled next to her in their comfortable first class seats. Bella moved the armrests so she could nuzzle against him. She watched her last, overcast glimpse of Britain through the little window, smiling softly at the grey skies and blacktop. "I want her to be born here," she said quietly, before she could stop herself. Yes, she thought. That would be good—perfect, even. They couldn't stay in Forks forever, and if her father didn't end up going to jail, she didn't think she would be able to stay there at all, for any length of time. She would be too afraid, looking over her shoulder every moment, expecting to see his shadow hovering over her. The Cullens were determined to keep her safe, but they couldn't be with her every second of every day. And the baby—what would Charlie do if he knew she was carrying another child, this one the product of a confused but ardent love? No, she couldn't imagine exposing her daughter or son to that, especially after Charlie had threatened Mason so terribly.

Edward stroked her hair away from her face. His golden eyes were calm, and a hint of a pleased smile hovered over his gentle mouth. "Okay," he said. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. If you want her to be born here, we can come back. Carlisle can set up a clinical room in the house, and you can recover in peace."

"I like that idea. I don't want Charlie to ever get his hands on her," Bella whispered. "Here, she'll be safe."

"I'd never let that happen, but yes, she'll be safe here. He won't know where either of you are. You won't have to worry about him anymore."

Bella moved her hand to rub the little bulge where her baby grew. Maybe she wasn't sure if she'd make a good mother, but she knew for a fact that she'd never let Charlie touch this child. She'd die first.

"This is going to be a long flight," Emmett said, poking his head over the back of Edward's seat. "You were knocked out the first time you flew across the Pond, Bell. You might want to ask Edward for another of those pills. It'll make the flight easier."

Bella made a face at him, which only made Emmett laugh. "That's not very nice, Em."

"Leave us alone," Edward growled at his bigger brother. Bella put her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. She'd forgiven him for his mistakes because she understood his reasoning, and because he'd been able to admit that he was wrong. Emmett was only teasing, but he clearly didn't realize how personally Edward still took that incident.

"Put your seat belt on and shut up," Rosalie said, slapping Emmett's head. "Leave Bella alone."

"I'm going to be bored on the flight!" Emmett protested. "It's no fun if I can't talk to people!"

"Here," Rose said, and she handed Mason to her husband. "You get to deal with him when we take off and his ears hurt."

Emmett grimaced. "Oh, yeah," he said, holding the baby in his lap. "You wouldn't happen to have a children's version of whatever you gave Bella, would you, Edward?"

Edward shot him a dirty look, then turned around and slid his arms around Bella, pointedly ignoring his brother.

"Behave, children," Carlisle said from across the aisle, a gleam of humor in his eye. "Don't make us regret putting everyone on the same flight this time."

Bella did end up falling asleep in the air. Edward reclined their seats and unbuckled her seat belt, letting her curl against him. He tucked a blanket around her, grimacing slightly at the smell of so many humans in the recycled air. Bella had been worried about how the family would cope in the air, but Carlisle assured her that they flew fairly frequently and they knew how to control themselves. Bella had replied that she wasn't worried about their control, but about the discomfort they had to feel.

"Never you fear, baby sister," Emmett had chuckled, tugging on her hair gently. "If we didn't want to fly, we could always swim back."

Her eyes had grown huge, but she hadn't contradicted him.

"How is she?" Carlisle asked once Bella fell asleep.

Edward smoothed her hair back with a gentle hand. "Quiet," he confirmed. "She seems fine."

"No nausea? I worried about air sickness."

"Not so far." It was a calm flight, very little turbulence. Even Mason, normally an exuberant and active baby, had fallen asleep once his ears stopped hurting.

"I'm worried about her diet once we get back to the States," Edward admitted, watching Bella's peaceful face as she slept against his shoulder. "I wouldn't even begin to know where to look for black pudding outside the British Isles."

"There's probably an ethnic or specialty foods store in Seattle that sells something similar," Carlisle said smoothly. "If not, we can always have it imported. We could import from the butcher she's used to, if we wanted."

"I just want her to be okay. I worry."

"I know you do," Carlisle said. "She's family—we all worry. I don't foresee a problem and, even if there is, I'm sure we could find an alternate source of blood for her. That's what the fetus is craving, after all. The pudding is just the vessel."

Edward flinched inwardly. He didn't like being reminded that it was his own monstrous nature that had Bella craving strange food. There were still so many questions about this baby—how much it would resemble a human, how much vampire. Whether the pregnancy would progress normally with minimal discomfort and danger to Bella, or whether something would happen, some unknown event, that would potentially put one or both of their lives in danger. He would choose Bella's life over the fetus's in a heartbeat, but he desperately did not want to be put in that situation.

"It's okay," Carlisle said, as if sensing Edward's worry. "We won't let anything happen to her."

Edward hoped they could keep that promise.

* * *

The family had a two-hour layover in Dallas, and Edward took the opportunity to feed Bella a steak dinner from one of the airport pubs, as rare as they would make it. She made a face at the oozing pink meat, but admitted that the baby was hungry. She choked it down, obviously displeased but unable to stop.

"I'm sorry," Edward said quietly, stroking her hair when she leaned against his shoulder. "They wouldn't let us bring your pudding on the plane, so this is what we have until we can get home and find you something better."

"She's hungry," Bella murmured, rubbing her stomach. "Or thirsty, whatever. It's weird, I know it's not me. It's like...I feel it, but I don't want it, at the same time."

"I'm sorry," Edward said quietly. All he could do was apologize. He was helpless until they could get back home and find a suitable substitute.

"I don't think she likes this as much," Bella commented. "I feel better, but not completely."

"We'll be back home soon," Edward promised. "Just hang on, sweetheart."

Bella was extremely pale by the time they reached Seattle—paler than normal, her skin white as cracked ice. Edward insisted that they stop for the night so she could eat something and rest, and they could go back to Forks the next day. Surprisingly, Bella did not argue with him. She stifled a yawn though she'd napped for most of the flight to Seattle, and didn't protest as he tucked her under his arm in the airport.

"We can go ahead and open up the house," Alice suggested, taking Jasper's hand. "Emmett and Rose, too. I think they'd be happy to get Mason home and in his own bed."

Rose looked torn between her concern for Bella and for the baby in her arms, who had been remarkably good all things considered. Like any baby, he fussed when the cabin pressure on the airplane hurt his ears, and he was not particularly happy about the disruption to his established routine. But Emmett had a remarkable ability to distract his son, turning tears into chuckles or fascination.

"I'll be okay," Bella said, smiling tiredly at her sister from under Edward's arm. "I'm just tired, and the baby's hungry."

Rosalie pursed her lips. "You let us know immediately if something happens," she said, pointing a warning finger at Edward. "I mean it."

"We will," Carlisle soothed before an argument could break out. "You head home and care for Mason. We'll look after Bella."

Rosalie kissed her sister on the forehead and squeezed her hand before heading away with Jasper, Alice, Emmett, and the baby.

"Let's find you a hotel room," Edward said quietly, his forehead puckered with worry. "Then we'll see about something to eat."

Bella nodded, offering no complaint as Carlisle hailed a taxi to take them to the airport Hyatt. They booked two adjoining rooms though they really only needed one, and Edward and Esme volunteered to go search for food so Carlisle could assess Bella's condition.

"I don't have a condition," Bella protested quietly, though she was resting on a bed at the moment and did not attempt to get up. "I'm just tired. I'm pretty sure that's normal."

"To a certain extent," Carlisle agreed. "But we really don't know what this baby is doing to you. I'll take a quick look while they find you something to eat, but I don't think we'll be able to tell much until we get back home. Then I can run blood tests, and see about a sonogram and maybe an amniocentesis. I wish we could have done this sooner, but I didn't have the equipment in Britain and I couldn't just take you to a clinic, as you well know."

"I know," Bella said, smiling at her new father. "It's okay. I honestly believe there won't be any problems. She's just hungry is all."

"She?" Carlisle raised his eyebrow.

Bella bit her lip, her cheeks reddening. "Edward wants a girl."

"And what about you?" Carlisle asked, cocking his head to the side. "What do you want?"

"I don't really know," Bella said, shifting a little self-consciously on the bed. "But a girl might be nice. I think Edward would be a good father for a little girl."

Carlisle smiled. "I think so, too. Shall we check your vitals now?"

Bella nodded, and she was docile as Carlisle attached a blood pressure cuff and took a reading, checking her temperature at the same time.

"I wish I had a scale," Carlisle said idly. "I want to monitor your weight gain fairly frequently. Though you're in better health in general now than you were when you left Forks—it will be hard to tell at first what might be pregnancy-related."

Bella shifted again. "Was I really so gross-looking?"

"Not gross," Carlisle said softly. "Just...fragile. Like a breath of wind might bowl you over. You look stronger now, though I still want you to gain more weight. "

The corner of Bella's mouth turned up slightly. "That's not something girls hear very often."

"Well, you're a special case, sweetheart. You haven't had very normative eating habits modeled for you. I'm honestly a little surprised that you've taken such good care of yourself, all things considered. Renee's idea of a healthy diet is certainly better than what most Americans put in their stomachs, but it's not a balanced diet for a growing young body..  _Certainly_  not one that's also carrying a baby."

"And Charlie lives on greasy diner food, when he's not drinking his meals," Bella said softly.

"I'm proud of you for staying away from alcohol and cigarettes, too," Carlisle said. "It's a well-documented fact that the children of users are more likely to use drugs and alcohol, and with all the pain you've suffered I don't think anyone would blame you for wanting a balm."

"I guess I never really looked at it that way before," Bella said slowly. "I always sort of knew that I would never let myself become him, you know? So it was never an issue."

"That just shows how strong you really are." Carlisle chucked her under the chin gently. "Maybe not in body, but in spirit." So strong, he added silently. So many human children grew up in situations like hers, or worse. Some had the strength of character and resiliency to persevere, but many did not. Bella was one of the strong ones and Carlisle suspected that, even if his family had not come along when they did, she would have made it in the end. But he was grateful that she didn't have to. She was a kind soul, sweet and retiring, and she deserved some peace after her long ordeal. She deserved to experience the family life she'd never known. Yes, she might well have survived Charlie for another year and made her escape, but to where? With what? Shy little Bella would have a hard time finding a new place in a new community if others did not reach out to her first, and she might well have lived a very isolated and unhappy life, even without the resumption of abuse.

But Rosalie and Edward had prevented such an unhappy future. They'd taken an interest in the delicate little human, and the whole family had opened up its arms—proverbially and literally. Bella had responded in kind, giving them loyalty and affection, a beautiful little baby boy, and now a second child, the product of her rocky and whirlwind romance with Edward. He had to hope that this pregnancy did not end in tragedy for them all. Losing Bella or the child would be unbearable for Edward, and devastating for the family.

He filed Bella's vitals away in his perfect vampire memory, not needing pen and paper for the numbers that told him how she was doing. Her temperature was perhaps slightly low, but within normal range. Her blood pressure was low, too, but if she was hungry that could explain it. A spike in blood pressure would worry him more.

"Can I feel the fetus?" he asked. "I don't know how much I'll be able to tell, but I'd like to try."

Bella nodded and lay back as directed, her hands grabbing fistfuls of the bedspread but her body otherwise remaining still.

"I'm sorry," Carlisle said quickly when she tensed. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. Are hotels a trigger for you? We don't have to do this."

Bella shook her head slowly. "I'll be okay," she said, giving him a flicker of a smile. "I know you won't hurt me. It's just bad memories."

"You tell me if you get too uncomfortable."

He watched her carefully as she held onto the comforter, her body otherwise calm. "I just want to quickly feel the baby, and then we'll be done."

She nodded, and Carlisle watched her as he carefully lifted her shirt just enough to expose the hesitant swelling where the fetus lay. He was quite thankful for the fashion of low-slung pants, since it meant he didn't have to ask her to unbutton her jeans.

"My hands are cold," he reminded her, though he supposed she was well aware of the temperature of their skin by now. He had not had much physical contact with his human daughter, but she could often be found curled up with Esme or Edward. Even Rosalie, not physically demonstrative with anyone but Emmett, often had a hug or a squeeze of the hand for Bella.

Her stomach was firm, which he expected. The swell of child wasn't soft fat, but a growing organism. It was too soon to expect to feel any movement if this were a normal pregnancy, but he wasn't going to assume anything right now. Not when they were so unsure about how this pregnancy would ultimately progress.

"Can you feel anything?" Bella asked softly.

"No," Carlisle confirmed. "Nothing out of the ordinary, and that's a good thing." He released her, and she went into the bathroom to change into pajamas and get comfortable. She was moving quite slowly even for a human, and Carlisle watched her carefully as she settled back on her bed and pulled the blankets up over her legs.

"Are you cold?" he asked. "We can turn the heat up if you like; it makes no difference to us."

Bella adjusted the pillows so she could lean back against the headboard, and she smiled at him. "I'm okay," she said, though her face was heavy with exhaustion. "It feels nice to be in a bed again."

"We would have gotten you one," Carlisle replied. "You didn't have to sleep on an air mattress."

"I wanted to," she said, which Carlisle had already known. "I was happier like that, but it still feels nice now."

"Then enjoy it," he told his youngest daughter. "And let us know if there's anything we can do to make you feel better. I know pregnancy can be uncomfortable even when there's nothing wrong, but I'd consider yours high-risk anyway."

When he offered her the remote, Bella chose a news station so she could catch up on events that had taken place during her absence from the country. She seemed content enough, if tired, and Carlisle tried to tell himself that she didn't need a physician hovering over her. Not yet, anyway.

Edward and Esme came back with a number of options, since actual black pudding could not be found. There was a German variant of blood sausage, another rare steak, and a small container of pig's blood that Edward said had come from a lab supply store.

Already sickly pale, Bella turned absolutely white at the third offering.

"I know," Esme said softly in her gentle, motherly voice. "I know it doesn't sound appetizing. But if the baby won't accept something else, you might want to try it."

She opted to try the German sausage first, which she declared didn't taste as good as the British variety but was better than rare steak at calming the baby's thirst. Carlisle suspected that was because the undercooked meat didn't actually have any blood in it, and the animal protein was a poor substitute for what the child was really craving.

When the sausage was gone, Bella drank a great deal of water and nibbled on some bread and raw vegetables to ease her more human nutritional needs. She was asleep within minutes of brushing her teeth and curling back into bed, her cheeks a healthier color, her head pillowed on one smooth arm.

"We should have thought of this," Edward said heavily, a crushing load of guilt heavy in his voice. "We should have figured out a way to keep her fed on the trip."

"Nobody thought that she would lose nutrition so quickly, son," Carlisle soothed. "Now we know, and we'll be better able to anticipate her needs."

Edward hung his head, dropping it into his hands. "I did this," he said miserably. "I want my baby, Carlisle. So desperately. But I hate watching what this is doing to her."

"You and Bella have chosen to see this through," Carlisle said, "so we have to do what we can to support her and let nature take its course. Her body was meant to bear children, and discomfort is part of the process. It's pointless to question how different this pregnancy will be, because we have no way of knowing. Have peace, Edward. Or faith. She's a strong girl; she can do this."

Edward didn't answer. He curled next to Bella's sleeping body on the bed, careful not to touch her bare skin with his. The rapt look on his face told Carlisle clearly what he felt for her, and how much. Esme put a gentle hand on his arm, urging him to come with her into the other hotel room and give Edward some privacy. He obeyed, ready to give Bella all the time she needed in order to recover.

* * *

Bella woke slowly, her mind thick with sleep. She was warm, and she was lying on a soft but unfamiliar surface. Her nose told her Edward was near, and she couldn't be nervous about her unknown whereabouts when she knew he was with her. He kept her safe. He loved and protected her, and as long as he was with her, she could never be afraid.

But she  _was_  hungry. A gnawing emptiness tightened like a knot in her stomach, and she grimaced at the uncomfortable feeling. She was very used to feeling hungry, but for the past few months it hadn't been such a constant part of her life. Since coming to live with the Cullens, in fact, she had been well fed. She ate when she was hungry, never forced to wait for permission from a violent and mercurial father or a well-meaning but neglectful mother.

"Beautiful," Edward murmured, "how are you?"

"Mm." She rolled toward the sound of his velvet voice, encountering soft fabric and cold skin.

"Hi." She heard the smile in his voice, and she raised her head to seek his face, brushing her lips against his cool jaw. "You're quiet."

She tucked her head against his shoulder and nestled close, caught between the desire to go back to sleep and to get up so she could find some food.

"Lovely," he said, "are you okay?"

She heard the worry in his voice, and she understood. Slowly her memories of last night began to filter back into her mind. They had been concerned for her, though she did not consider the incident as worrying as Edward clearly did. The baby had been hungry—that was all. She was hungry again now. It was normal for a pregnant woman to feel hungry or tired, or both, and Bella didn't see the problem. When she had been pregnant before, she'd been too filled with fear to really feel what her body was doing. She couldn't even remember a lot of it, to be honest. She couldn't remember the first time she felt Mason move inside her, couldn't remember specific cravings, or even emotions other than a sickly sort of fear. She did remember that feeling Mason kick did not endear him to her—rather, she felt like she was incubating something alien, something she had not chosen and did not want.

Now, she was curious how she would feel when this new baby first moved within her—when she could feel the separate life that existed inside her body. Would it feel like before? Or would it be different this time, sweeter somehow, because she had  _chosen_  to keep and carry her?

"I'm fine," she said slowly, stroking Edward's cheek with her fingertips. His worry and care astounded her, every time. "Just sleepy." Her stomach growled, and she grimaced. "And hungry."

His lips brushed against her forehead and Bella smiled, finally opening her eyes. His beautiful face came into focus, topaz eyes glowing brightly. "Do you feel better than you did last night?"

"Yes." It was true. Last night she had had difficulty staying awake, and her stomach had been upset by the rare meat and the baby's hunger. Today, while she would happily go back to sleep, she did not feel the same sort of aching exhaustion that threatened to take over her entire body.

"Good. You know I worry about you." Edward kissed her mouth softly, then released her as she reluctantly began to struggle out of the blankets. A shower would feel good right about now, she thought. And breakfast—definitely breakfast. "Esme and Carlisle have gone to get you more of that German sausage for now, and they ordered a rush delivery of black pudding to be sent home for you."

"Thank you," Bella said, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. She really didn't like making so much trouble for the family, but she tried to tell herself that this was for the baby, not her. And it wasn't as if she were simply demanding a difficult-to-find food for the hell of it—this was the one thing the baby seemed to like, and anything else made her feel sick to varying degrees. There was very little Bella could do about it.

"There's no need to thank us, sweet girl," Edward said. His smile was gentle, a little sad, and Bella knew he still felt guilty though she had told him multiple times that he shouldn't. Neither of them had known a baby was possible, and Edward had not impregnated her on purpose. It was her choice to carry to term, or attempt to at least, so he had no reason to feel guilty. "Why don't you shower? You'll feel better, and I'm sure Esme and Carlisle will be back before you're done."

They picked up Carlisle's car at the extended-stay parking lot, and the drive to Forks was relatively calm. Bella curled close to Edward's comforting bulk, watching the trees blur into a soft green haze outside her window. She was a little nervous coming back to Forks, back to the place where her father lived and worked. The Cullens would do their best to keep her safe, she knew, but there was never any certainty. Not with a volatile person like Charlie.

She felt decidedly better after her breakfast, and Carlisle had promised that she would have a steady supply of black pudding starting tomorrow. The German blood sausage wasn't bad, but the baby preferred the British version for some reason Bella couldn't comprehend. She would happily eat the German sausage until the other came—at least it didn't make her feel sick as the steak had.

"Heidi has asked us to call her as soon as you return home," Esme said, turning in her seat to watch Bella. "We can give her a call later this afternoon if you like—give you a chance to settle in first."

Bella nodded, chewing on her sore lower lip. Heidi had been nothing but kind to her, but she was still nervous about meeting her social worker again. So many lies had been told—out of necessity, yes, but Bella hated it still. And so much could go wrong in the future. They had three days to prepare for family court, three days until she would have to sit in the same room as Charlie and discuss things she didn't want to discuss, talk about events she'd just as soon forget.

"I'm afraid," she admitted, pressing closer to Edward's arm.

"Of what, baby?" Esme asked. Her gold eyes were achingly gentle, eternally understanding. She was the mother Bella had yearned for, and it still seemed surreal every time she reached out and Esme was there, soft and sweetly loving.

"What if he has some great excuse?" she asked. Of all the 'what-ifs' that plagued her thoughts, this was the one that frightened her most. "What if he somehow convinces the judge that I'm a bad kid and he's a great father? I don't want to go back to him. I can't."

"You won't," Esme soothed. "One way or another, you won't. We''re trying to do everything by the book because it will be easier for you in the long run. But if that doesn't work, there are...alternate means."

Bella's mouth thinned in a tense line, and she ducked her forehead into Edward's sleeve. She knew what Esme was trying not to say, and she didn't like it. She understood that the family—certain members of the family in particular—would be more than happy to kill Charlie and spirit her away. But, as she'd said multiple times, she didn't want that blood on their hands. Charlie wasn't worth it.

"We can't know what he'll do until he does it," Carlisle said smoothly. "Unless Alice sees something, and she says that lately his mind has been a jumbled mess, flitting from one decision to another with no rhyme or reason. So the best thing to do is let Heidi prepare us as best she can, stay strong, and hope the judge sees Charlie for who he really is."

Basically, Bella thought as she felt Edward stroke the barely-there swell of her stomach, they were hoping for a miracle.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Research for this chapter included going through my old court records from California and grilling the faculty at my university's MSW (Master's of Social Work) program. If you can get your hands on a copy, I also highly recommend the documentary "No Place For A Child," which aired on MSNBC in…2006, I want to say? It follows a handful of families as they make their way through the juvenile justice system for various reasons.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

"Bella!"

Heidi reached out the moment the door opened and clutched Bella's shoulders in her hands. She resisted the urge to full-on hug the girl, though it was difficult. Bella was just so...so  _little_. She looked younger than her seventeen years, and the way she curled in on herself, huddling quietly in her oversized shirt, didn't help matters. That might be all to the good once they got her in court, though, Heidi supposed. She looked so fragile, so scared, and hopefully their judge would not be unaffected by that.

"I'm so glad to see you," Heidi said. There really had not been any guarantee that Bella would return as she'd promised, not until she was here, standing before her. Heidi stroked the girl's soft cheek once, unable to help herself despite the way Bella tensed slightly and looked quickly to Esme in entreaty.

Heidi released her after a moment. She didn't mean to make the girl uncomfortable, but she was just too relieved to help herself. Bella had been gone for months, and there was no telling what might have happened to her in the meantime. But she seemed none the worse for wear, no outward signs of trauma marring her body, and her expression was no more wary or haunted than Heidi remembered.

Esme smiled warmly, inviting Heidi further into the house with a crook of her head. Bella put her hand back, fumbling for Esme's, and Heidi watched the girl relax visibly once she felt the grounding touch of her temporary guardian. It was beyond obvious that Bella had already formed a bond of comfort with her new caregiver. The Cullen household wasn't just a convenient safehouse from her father's cruelty, but an actual home for the girl.

Esme squeezed the pale hand in hers, smiling reassuringly at Bella. Plain as day, the gesture said  _I am here. You are not alone._  It was the sort of speaking smile that a seasoned mother knew well, the kind of smile that soothed and showed affection at the same time.

""You're looking well," Heidi said, appraising Bella carefully. She was still small and pale, but the look of perpetual fear on her face had eased significantly. She definitely looked better with the softer expression on her face.

"You can help me bring in the tea," Esme said, squeezing Bella's hand again. "Heidi, you know where the living room is."

"Yes, thank you." Heidi made her way through the foyer, to the lovely, open living room. Just how the Cullens would keep their pristine white furniture from being destroyed once Mason started walking, Heidi had no idea. But a family as obviously well off as they were could either redecorate in a kid-friendly style or somehow set up the house to keep him away from the more adult areas.

"Hello," Carlisle said warmly, setting aside what looked like a medical journal as Heidi came into the room. "We want to thank you again for everything you've done for Bella. Mason, too. They would have been lost without you."

The gentle caring of this family never failed to surprise Heidi. She dealt with both the best of humanity and the worst—people who willingly opened their home to troubled children in need, and the families that had caused the problems in the first place. But not one of her foster homes could compare with this one for the tenderness and respect with which they treated their children.

"I do what I can," Heidi said, settling in a chair. "But I really believe you're the ones who've done for Bella what I failed to do. Mason is a healthy baby—he would have found an adoptive family quickly and easily. But everyone assumes that teenagers in need have already been ruined beyond hope. They don't want girls like Bella."

Carlisle's handsome, angular face was understanding. "We have plenty of experience with teenagers, so we understand the special challenges. But there are also incredible rewards. I'll be the proudest father in that audience when each and every one of them receives their diplomas, I can assure you."

Heidi believed him.

"Hi Ms. Fischer," the huge son called, ambling into the room.

"How are you, Emmett?" she replied. All the Cullen kids were so polite! "Are you excited to get back to school?"

"Football's over for the year," Emmett said mournfully. "Hey, dad said you'll be talking about family court today. Us siblings are family, and we know Bella real well. Do we get to go? We want to help."

Of course they did. During her visits, Heidi had learned that the entire family was fiercely loyal to each other, and that included Bella. Even when she was lost, they considered her theirs.

"We can talk about that," she said, glancing carefully at Carlisle. It wasn't unheard of to allow other minors into the courtroom, and these teens were old enough to give worthwhile evidence if necessary. But the hearing could also get messy, particularly since they had absolutely no idea what Charles Swan might do. It was very possible that Carlisle and Esme would not want their kids exposed to that uncertainty.

"I'm not averse," Carlisle said calmly when Heidi's eyes met his inquiringly. "But we told them that it was your decision, and they weren't to come just to watch any potential fireworks, or to pick a fight with Charlie Swan. They need to have something useful to add, or they need to stay here."

It was a reasonable desire. Heidi smiled up at the giant son as he made a face at his father. He clearly did not like the restriction, but he wasn't going to argue about it.

Esme and Bella came into the room carrying trays of tea and cookies. Heidi watched carefully as Bella sat close to her foster mother on the soft couch, tucked between Esme and the corner.

"You're welcome to go get the others," Esme told her son, "but only if they promise to listen quietly and not make a scene." She smoothed a blanket over Bella's knees almost reflexively. Bella's hand dropped to clutch the edge of it, belying her tightly strung nerves.

"We're here to learn what you can teach us," Esme said, passing Bella a mug of tea. "We're so grateful that you're willing to prepare us like this."

As the rest of the teenagers filed into the room, Heidi took a mug for herself. "It's standard procedure," she said, "but I'd be glad to do it even if it wasn't. You've been fighting this alone for far too long, Bella. It's time for someone to give you a little help."

Bella's cheeks turned pink. "Thank you," she said softly.

"What do you already know about family court, Bella?"

Bella shrugged her tense shoulders, cupping her mug as if savoring the warmth. "Not much," she said, her voice achingly quiet. "Esme said it's not like a TV courtroom?"

"That's right," Heidi confirmed. "For this sort of hearing, you'll be in a room that looks a little like a conference room or a classroom, not the sort of courtroom you're used to seeing on television. There's no jury. No one is being accused of a crime. The judge's role is only to act in the best interest of the minor child—in this case, you, Bella. When she asks you questions, you need to try to answer them as fully as you can. No one will try to trick you. No one will be mean. Charlie will have a lawyer, as will we, but you won't be cross-examined or anything like that. The judge runs the show completely."

"Will you be there?" Bella asked worriedly, her delicate brow puckered up in a frown.

"Yes," Heidi soothed, smiling encouragingly. "I'll be a witness for the state, to give testimony of my interactions with you."

Bella bit her lip but did not say anything more.

"I can't tell you exactly what the judge is going to ask you. In that respect, a criminal trial is a little easier to prepare for. You'd know your lawyer's questions ahead of time and have ready answers. Here that isn't possible, unfortunately."

"Why would I need canned answers?" Bella asked, looking up warily. "I'm not a liar."

"Not canned answers," Heidi assured her. "Just…have you ever heard the saying that a lawyer never asks a question he doesn't already know the answer to? Well, there you go." She paused and took a sip of tea. "Do you have any more questions about procedure? What I'd really like to do today is go over potential questions the judge might ask, so you can think about how you'd like to answer her."

"Like what?" Bella asked.

"She'll obviously want to know about your past with Charlie, just like you told the Cullens."

"Can't I just show the video?"

"The judge will have seen it ahead of time," Heidi soothed. "It's been entered as evidence. But if she asks you a question, you must answer. You can't just say, well, you already saw the tape." She paused. "Well, you  _could_. No one's trying to take away your free will. But the judge won't like it, and you'll seem argumentative. That's not what we're trying to show. We'd like Charlie to seem like the uncooperative one, if at all possible."

Bella ducked her head slightly. She seemed to understand, but she was obviously not terribly happy about it. Heidi couldn't blame her. This was the reason so many people did not want to press charges against their abusers, and why women so often did not report rapes. It was frightening to think of sitting in the same room with a violent man and talking about what he'd done, especially if he'd threatened you with more harm for doing just that. Bella was incredibly brave for being willing to do this. It would be in her best interest, yes, but still the amount of courage needed was staggering.

"We'll be with you, sweetheart," Esme said softly, touching Bella's shoulder. "You won't have to do this alone."

Bella's eyes were damp when she raised them, though no tears fell. "I just want all this to be over," she said. Her hand strayed to press against her stomach; Heidi wondered if perhaps it hurt. Nervous stomachaches were something she saw often in the days leading up to a trial.

"I know, baby," Esme said. She touched Bella's cheek lightly, and the girl sighed and dropped her head to Esme's shoulder, hiding for a moment in the long curtain of her dark hair. "You just have to be strong for a few more days, and then Charlie will never be able to touch you again."

* * *

Bella couldn't sleep the night before the trial. Edward tried reading to her, playing the piano, and even making love to her tenderly, but, while she was receptive and affectionate, she did not sleep. "I'm just afraid," she admitted in a halting whisper somewhere in the darkest hours of the night. "I don't want to do this."

"How badly do you not want to do this?" Edward asked cautiously. He was through trying to force her to do things. If she didn't think she could face Charlie, he'd find a way to stop it.

She buried her head in his bare chest, pressing her forehead against the cold skin. "I don't know," she said miserably. "I know I have to, but…"

"You don't have to," Edward corrected her. "You don't have to do anything. Just say the word, and we'll stop all of this."

She was silent for a moment before shaking her head. "I can't," she said softly. "If I run away now, Charlie wins. I just wish I didn't have to."

"Just remember that you're doing this for your future," Edward said. "For the chance to have one free of Charlie. Free of fear."

"And for her," Bella said, rubbing her belly. "So Charlie can never touch her."

"I wouldn't let him anyway," Edward growled. "But, yes. So Charlie can never touch either of you."

She looked drawn and haggard by nine o'clock, when it was time to leave the house. Edward watched her worriedly. She'd refused any sort of sleeping pill for fear it might hurt the baby, and while he understood her worry, it didn't make him feel any better about the dark smudges under her eyes or the exhaustion written in the soft curve of her mouth.

"I'd sleep if I could," she told him quietly as Esme prepared a lunch to take with them. "I just...can't."

"I'm sure you'll sleep well tonight," Alice soothed, squeezing her sister gently before dancing away.

"Is that your gift talking?"

"Nope. Just sisterly love."

Bella ate what she could, only because she knew her daughter would give her no peace otherwise, and she didn't complain when Edward brought a pillow and blanket into the back of Carlisle's car with them, though she doubted she would be able to nap on the drive. Her body was tense, as if her muscles could not relax. Only freeing herself from Charlie's guardianship would calm her now. She had to go through with it, as much as she didn't want to see him again.

"Don't let him do anything," she pleaded softly into Edward's shoulder, though she had rarely asked for anything from him. "Please." Her voice quavered.

"Never," he vowed. "Charlie won't ever place a finger on you again. I promise, Bella."

She believed him. No matter what happened, Edward would not let Charlie hurt her anymore. If he went crazy and tried to lunge at her in the courtroom, Edward's vampire reflexes were far faster. Charlie wouldn't stand a chance. It was his words more than anything that she was afraid of—how he could say the most terrible things, twisting cruelly into her heart. She shuddered as the sound of his voice echoed in her memory. It was a voice she never wanted to hear again. Maybe after today, she wouldn't have to.

Esme and Carlisle climbed into the front of the car, the others piling into Emmett's jeep. Rosalie had ultimately decided to stay home with Mason, since she didn't want him anywhere near Charlie. Bella promised her worried sister that she would be fine with the rest of the family, and they'd call if anything happened. Rosalie didn't like it, but Mason was her primary concern. Bella had six vampires watching out for her. One more likely wouldn't make much difference either way.

The hearing would take place in Olympia, and Bella stared dully out the window, swallowing hard. She tried not to think about the last time she'd made this drive, sitting next to Jacob in his beat-up car, her body wracked with pain, her heart and mind in turmoil. She had been running from the Cullens, convinced that they would never want her again once they learned she had a bastard child. Her only goal was to somehow save Mason from Charlie, if she could.

So much had changed, but she was still tormented by doubt and fear. Not fear of her family's loyalty, but of her own ability to convey what needed to be conveyed, explain to the judge why she couldn't go back to her father. She worried about Charlie, a master manipulator, and his ability to twist facts to fit his own selfish motives. No one except the Cullens had ever believed her before. Why should that change now?

"Please try to calm down, sweetheart," Carlisle said, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. "You look like you're going to be sick."

She felt like she was going to be sick. Not because of the fetus or food, but simply because she was too nervous to really feel settled.

"I'd love to give you something to take the edge off your nerves," Carlisle added.

Bella shook her head. That much she was sure of. "It's bad for the baby."

Once probably won't hurt, he'd already told her, but Bella shook her head stubbornly. No drugs—nothing that had even a chance of harming the baby inside her. Edward wanted her so badly...

"Try the breathing exercises we talked about," Carlisle suggested. "Slow and deep—remember to count. I don't want to see you hurt yourself."

Bella obeyed, breathing deeply for a count of five, trying to focus just on that, blocking thoughts of Charlie from her mind. She didn't put much faith in the practice, but she'd try if Carlisle thought it might help.

"You're going to be fine," Edward murmured, though his face was solemn. "We'll get through this together. You've overcome so much, baby; this is just one more step."

"Stay with me," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his cold arm. "Please, just stay with me."

"Of course," he soothed, rubbing his long-fingered hand against her leg. "Where else would I go?"

"Just try to keep the PDA to a minimum in the courtroom, please," Carlisle said, glancing back at them again. "Bella, you're welcome to lean on Esme or Alice for comfort, but it's best if we keep your relationship with Edward out of the spotlight today. We don't want to give Charlie any more ammunition than he already has."

Bella hated it, but she understood. If they wanted to win, they had to present her relationship with the family in the best possible light. A romantic entanglement with her supposed foster brother would likely not go over well. Just as with news of the new baby, it was best to keep some things private.

"I'll hold you afterward," Edward promised, tightening his arms around her. "For as long as you like—I promise. Just try to stop me." His mouth curved up in an attempted smile, but Bella saw the strain in his golden eyes. She felt it, too. Today would change everything, one way or another.

* * *

An assistant showed them into the courtroom when they arrived. It looked like a conference room, just as Heidi had said—a big rectangular table with chairs along both long sides, a desk pushed against one of the short sides. Scuffed white walls, navy blue and wine red plastic chairs on metal legs.

"There's no need to rise when the judge enters; we're very informal here," the man said as he held the door. "Your social worker is on her way."

Bella followed Edward to the far side of the large table, her entire body shaking with nerves. She took a deep breath and chose a seat between Esme and Edward, her rocks when she felt that everything was slipping away. Edward would never let anything happen to her, and Esme was a source of comfort when she feared nothing could make her feel better.

Carlisle gave her a pad of yellow lined paper in case she wanted to take notes during the hearing. He had one, too, though she understood that it was just a prop. Every tiny detail would be burned into her family's perfect vampire memories.

"Faith, Bella," Carlisle reminded her. "Breathe. Count. If you need a break, just let someone know—squeeze Esme's hand, perhaps. We're here for you."

"And if Charlie tries anything, we'll kick his ass," Emmett added, trying to squeeze his huge bulk into a chair. The plastic squeaked under his weight.

"Will Charlie have witnesses, too?" Bella asked, looking at Carlisle worriedly.

"I don't know. Maybe Heidi will?"

"Maybe Heidi will what?" Heidi asked as she swept into the room, an armful of documents in one hand and a briefcase clutched in the other. She was dressed more professionally than Bella had ever seen her—knee-length pencil skirt and a matching jacket over a striped blouse. Behind her walked a similarly-attired African-American woman who Bella assumed must be their lawyer.

"Know whether Charlie is coming with just his attorney," Carlisle supplied as Heidi and the other woman sat near the head of the table, one seat removed from the judge's desk.

"I don't even know if he's going to show up, to be honest," Heidi said, beginning to spread her supplies out in neat, ordered piles. "If he doesn't, he'll be considered in contempt of court and we'll go ahead with the hearing—he just won't be able to present his side of the story. Really, it's in his best interest to be here, but I don't know what he'll do. In my opinion it's highly unlikely that he's going to win no matter what he does, so I guess it's possible that he'd rather take the contempt fine than risk making a fool of himself."

"I'm Patrice O'Connell," the other woman said, holding out her hand first to Carlisle, then to Esme. "Do you have any questions for me? My job is really just to protect your legal interests. In family court, the judge really runs the show."

Carlisle shook his head after glancing at Bella. "No, thank you," he said. "I think Heidi has prepared us as much as she can. Now it's up to the judge."

Bella rested her head against Esme's cool shoulder, and the older woman slid a comforting arm around her, drawing her close. "It will be okay, Bella. Heidi has prepared us. He can't surprise us."

But Bella's heart nearly stopped when the door opened again and Charlie entered, chaperoned by another assistant.

Because he wasn't alone.

"What kind of stories have you been telling now, Bella?" Renee's exasperated voice rang out. Bella winced, barely holding in a whimper, and ducked further against Esme. The cold arm around her tightened fiercely, but it couldn't protect her from the shock of seeing both her parents united on one side of the table, herself and the Cullens on the other. Alice shot a wide-eyed look Bella's way—clearly she hadn't seen this decision.

"That's  _my_  daughter," Renee informed Esme, narrowing her eyes at the arm holding Bella close. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What you never did," Esme replied calmly, cupping Bella's cheek in her other hand, wrapping the girl in a protective embrace.

"And waiting for me," a new voice added. A dark-skinned, heavyset woman in her late 50's walked briskly into the room, holding several slim manila folders. "Judge Ann-Marie Lucas. While this is not the sort of courtroom you see on Law and Order, I assure you it's still a United States courtroom, and I _will_  find you in contempt if you don't play nice." She eased herself into the nicer chair behind the desk at the head of the table, set her files down before her, and opened a bulky black laptop. As it booted up, she glanced back and forth slowly from one side to the other. On one side of the table sat Charlie, impeccably turned out in his dress uniform, Renee on his left and a man in a suit, presumably his lawyer, on his right. The other side of the table was full of ethereally beautiful—disturbingly lovely—people with yellow eyes sheltering a delicate brown-haired girl.

"Let's be clear on the rules in my courtroom, shall we?" the judge said, her eyes traveling over each person seated before her. "You will speak respectfully to everyone in this room. No cursing. Threats will be taken very seriously, so I suggest you do not utter any, even as figures of speech. You will answer the questions I ask you, when I ask you. This is not a presidential debate where you can ignore the question and say whatever you like. I will give you time to speak your mind, but it won't be at your discretion, it will be at mine. Tell me now if there is anything about the procedure that does not make sense to you, because I won't remind you again."

Charlie's eyes looked positively lethal, but it was Renee who crossed her arms irritably and spoke out of turn. "Really, treating us like criminals because our daughter likes to tell stories. I don't know what the world is coming to."

"That's enough out of you," the judge said, raising a warning finger. "You'll find that I'm serious about these things. Quite serious." She eyed everyone in turn, but nobody said anything. "Now, to begin, I'd like everyone around the table to state their name, so I can match names with faces. We'll start with you." She pointed at the man with Charlie that Bella did not know.

"Garrett Garcia, your honor," the man said. "Attorney for Forks Police Department."

So Charlie  _did_  have a lawyer, and he was the lawyer responsible for the police department. He looked terrifyingly competent, dressed impeccably in a charcoal suit and navy tie. Bella shuddered in her chair and reached out quickly, seeking Esme's hand under the table. Esme grasped her hand in both cold ones, squeezing gently, flashing Bella a soothing glance. Edward's hand found her knee under the table and held firmly. She was surrounded by people who cared about her, and Bella tried to let it soothe her. The Cullens wouldn't let anything bad happen, one way or another.

"Charlie Swan," Charlie barked. He wasn't looking at anyone, and Bella was willing to bet that it was to hide his furious expression from the judge. He was clearly unable to keep his cool, and the smooth and polished facade of aloving father was crumbling around him. "Chief of police, Forks, Washington."

"Renee Dwyer," Renee said, stirring fretfully by Charlie's side. "And I really don't know why you're taking any of this seriously."

"Dwyer?" the judge asked, glancing at her records. "Formerly Renee Swan?"

"Yes," Renee snapped. "I married my second husband only about a week ago, and instead of a honeymoon I was forced to come here, to court."

"There are no complaints against you personally, Mrs. Dwyer," the judge said dryly. "If you want to leave, you're welcome to. And if you keep talking out of turn, I will compel you to."

Renee, finally, was silent.

"Emmett Cullen," Emmett said, glancing irritably at the other side of the table. He flashed the judge his dimples, then glared at Charlie and Renee. "Bella's big brother."

It warmed something inside Bella to her him talk like that, but the judge obviously felt differently.

"Let's leave off the non-legal familial ties, please," she said. "Esme and Carlisle Cullen do currently have temporary custody over the minor child Bella Swan, but that doesn't make you her brother unless and until a more permanent arrangement is called for."

"I'm her big brother, no matter what you say," Emmett said stubbornly.

"Emmett." Carlisle's soft rebuke was enough to keep his giant son quiet, and the judge flashed him an impressed look.

"Alice Cullen," Alice said. She obeyed the judge's edict in marginally, but she mouthed, "Bella's sister," when she knew Bella was looking. Her slow wink of comfort made a flicker of a hesitant smile tickle the corner of Bella's mouth.

"Jasper Cullen," Jasper said tightly, the amount of intense emotion in the room was clearly affecting him, but he said nothing more.

"Edward Cullen," Edward said, his hand tightening slightly on Bella's knee. She could hear the absolute fury in his voice, the secret yearning for her father's blood. She only hoped the judge did not hear it, too.

"I-Isabella," Bella said softly, struggling to keep eye contact with the judge. She didn't seem like an unkind woman, and if nothing else, she didn't seem happy with Renee. That had to be a mark in their favor, didn't it?

Esme and Carlisle stated their names calmly, followed by Heidi and then Patrice O'Connell. Bella clutched Esme's cold hands tightly with hers, trying to calm her nerves. Charlie couldn't touch her, she told herself silently. He was forbidden to do anything to her while they were in this room and, even if he tried, there were six very angry vampires who would stop him. She was safe—as safe as she could possibly be, considering the situation.

But her relative safety did not erase her fear. The man who had ruled her childhood with an iron fist was now sitting across from her in a crowded courtroom, and while he was not technically on trial for what he'd done to her, what they said today in this room would decide whether his parental rights to her were revoked. The last time she had seen her father, he had nailed her inside a tiny makeshift box in the garage, presumably to forget about her. No amount of talk from Heidi or Edward could have prepared her for this—seeing his face again, sitting in the same room with him, knowing that he now knew she had told the secrets he'd warned her never to tell. Any punishment she'd previously received from him would seem like a trip to Disneyland compared to what he'd do if he ever got his hands on her again.

And Renee. Bella felt her stomach clench when she looked across the table and saw her mother and father sitting side by side, something she didn't think she remembered ever seeing before. The divorce had not been an amicable one, and they were not friendly with each other. Why, then, was Renee here? It was one thing for her to seem apathetic to Bella's plight, but quite another to back Charlie to this extent. While Bella did not want to return to her mother's care, the betrayal hurt far more than she would have expected.

"Let's get down to business," Judge Lucas said. She settled back at her desk, looking at the laptop in front of her. "At the risk of stating the obvious, for the record, we're here today to discuss whether Isabella Swan should be returned to her father's care or his parental rights terminated, temporarily or permanently, and she be classified as a child in need of services." She shuffled some of the papers in front of her. "I have reviewed certain pieces of evidence provided by the state, including a taped discussion Isabella had with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen in their home. Because no representative of the state—a caseworker, police officer, or otherwise—was present, it cannot be considered an official statement. But it is still admissible evidence in juvenile court, and has been released to Mr. Garcia as Mr. Swan's attorney."

" _Chief_  Swan," Charlie said, glancing up with a frown.

"Mr. Swan, in this courtroom your choice of occupation means absolutely nothing. You may hide behind your badge elsewhere, but justice is blind and impartial. If anything, your role as protector of your community puts your personal life under even greater scrutiny. I do not imagine the people of Forks would be pleased to hear that their chief of police was under investigation for abusing his daughter."

Charlie was silent, his mouth a thin line under his moustache.

"I will also say," the judge continued, "that, while in criminal court a defendant is innocent until proven guilty, the evidence I have currently seen puts the onus squarely on you, Mr. Swan, to explain why you think Isabella should be returned to you." She glanced back at her notes. "Dr. and Mrs. Cullen have also turned over to Isabella's caseworker, Heidi Fischer, a number of pieces of physical evidence. A studded belt spotted with dried blood, again, cannot be entered into evidence in a criminal trial, because the chain of possession cannot be confirmed. It was allegedly obtained from Mr. Swan's garage a day after Isabella voluntarily left the Cullens' house and returned to her father. But again, this is not a criminal trial. Mr. Swan is not being charged with any crime. We are simply here to ascertain what is in Isabella's best interests. Therefore, I'm inclined to allow the belt as evidence in this particular instance. Dr. Cullen has sworn under oath, as have his children, that it was obtained from the garage of Mr. Swan, and the blood tested positive as Isabella's. I also have in my possession a multitude of digital photographs taken by the Cullens, documenting various wounds sustained by Isabella, as well as her medical records both from Forks and from Phoenix, Arizona, where she lived most of the year with her mother, Renee Swan, now Dwyer." She paused, clicked several times on her laptop, and turned to Charlie's attorney. "Do you agree that this evidence has also been provided to you, Mr. Garcia?"

"I do, your honor," the man said. Bella could not read the expression on his face; his voice was blankly polite.

"And do Miss Swan's representatives, Ms. Fischer and Ms. O'Connell, agree that this evidence was made available to you, too?"

"We do, your honor," Patrice said calmly.

"Then, I would like to start with Isabella. Will you tell us all, please, in your own words, why we're here?"

Bella felt her heart stop. Carlisle and Heidi had warned her that this was going to happen, but that hadn't really prepared her. Everyone's eyes bored into her—her family's, the officials', and her parents'. Charlie's eyes were black and they glittered warningly at her. She had no doubt that the look on his face was a threat, but she couldn't lie in court. She just couldn't. Besides, he had probably already seen the tape Carlisle made, if it had been given to his lawyer. He already knew what she had told.

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and turned to glance quickly at Edward. His beautiful eyes were golden-brown, dark with anger but bright with love. She could  _see_  the emotions swirling in their crystal depths. He was her safety, and had been even when she fought it. She could say whatever she wanted, no matter how scared she was, because Edward and his family would never let Charlie lay a hand on her again.

It didn't make her less afraid, but Bella was finally able to swallow again, turn her head to the judge, and open her mouth. "Charlie hurts me." Her voice sounded strange—shaky and hoarse. But they were words she had dreamed of saying for most of her life—words she never thought she would ever be able to utter again once her single attempt to convince Renee of Charlie's abuse had failed miserably. Just three words croaked into the tense, waiting silence of a room full of people, but to her it felt like one of the biggest achievements she'd ever made.

The judge's eyes were calmly sympathetic when Bella flicked hers up hesitantly. She probably was used to seeing scared kids in this room, and that made Bella feel ever so slightly better.

"Do you want to elaborate?" the judge asked, not unkindly. "Or would you like me to ask you questions, instead?"

"Questions, please," Bella whispered. She thought she could answer direct questions, but she wouldn't know what to say if the judge simply asked her to talk.

"You say your father, Mr. Swan, hurts you. Do you mean to imply that he abuses you? Uses force above and beyond what an ordinary person would consider his parental right?"

Bella nodded shakily. At Esme's encouraging look, she continued. "I…my friend Jacob, his dad's Ch-Charlie's friend. I grew up with him. His dad would smack him and stuff when he did something wrong, but not like Charlie."

"How is Mr. Swan's discipline different?" Judge Lucas asked. "Can you explain?"

Bella squirmed in her chair. This was the part she didn't like talking about. To actually explain what her father did, and how it made her feel. Talking about it wasn't like reliving it, but the act of admitting to what he did filled her with an uncomfortable sense of…not shame, exactly. Not guilt. She didn't quite know what to call it. Things had been easier, in a way, when she was able to hide the truth, tuck it away in the part of herself that she thought would never be healed. No one had to know. No one asked her awkward questions.

"Billy would maybe smack Jacob's cheek or spank him," Bella whispered. "Or put him in timeout for maybe ten minutes when we were little. But Charlie's…different." She swallowed again, her throat dry. Alice reached into her giant leather purse and pulled out a bottle of water, sliding it down the table toward her. Bella flashed her sister a grateful look, twisting off the cap and taking a quick sip. "He'll b-burn me. Tie me down or lock me up somewhere and leave me for hours. He's dislocated my shoulder. When he hits, he leaves bruises."

"Thank you, Isabella," the judge said, her voice slightly softer. "That's just the sort of detail I wanted to hear. Can you tell me now how long this has been going on?"

"Always," Bella said, tightening her hands on Esme's. "As long as I can remember."

"Can you try to explain why we're only just now sitting in this courtroom, when you're seventeen years old, if the alleged abuse is so long-standing?"

It was a good question. Bella wondered that herself.

"It's okay, Isabella," the judge said. "No one is blaming you for anything. Just try to answer the question as best you can."

Bella took a deep breath, then let it out again. Esme's hands were cold and solid, anchoring her. "I tried to tell Renee once," she said. "She didn't believe me, and said I should stop telling lies. She punished me. And if my m-mom didn't believe me, I didn't think anyone else would, either." She hesitated, but the last sentence needed to be said. "He's the chief of police."

"Yes," the judge agreed, "he is. But that doesn't put him above the law, Isabella. Tell me, what made you finally decide to trust someone? Why did you tell the Cullens?"

"I didn't," Bella said. "They guessed. Rosalie said she took one look at me and she knew."

"Rosalie?"

"Our other daughter, your honor," Esme said. "She's at home babysitting today. Rose has her own history of abuse, and we felt it was best if we didn't expose her to today's proceedings."

The judge acknowledged Esme's words with a nod. "So you were befriended by the family," she said. "And then you told them?"

"Only when I couldn't help it," Bella said. Haltingly, she described how Charlie had punished her for coming home without her truck, eventually forcing her out of the house in only her underwear to wander alone in the rainy night. It felt like an event that had happened years ago. She explained about hitting her head, waking up in a bed in the Cullen house, Carlisle by her side. How she'd asked to go back home because she was afraid Charlie would harm the Cullens if she didn't. She was careful to leave out what she now understood as Edward's vampire abilities when she told about him coming to check on her, the violent confrontation with Charlie, and her ultimate return to the Cullen household.

"So you couldn't hide anymore after that night?" the judge asked, and Bella nodded. She could feel the uncomfortable heat in her face that told her she was probably as red as a tomato. She yearned for Edward's cool touch to soothe it.

The judge asked for the Cullens' take on that night, and they all corroborated Bella's story. Carlisle admitted that he hadn't wanted to take Bella back, but he knew the law was very clear and he didn't want to be accused of kidnapping. Bella felt her heart go out to the man she hoped would be her father if the judge allowed it. She hadn't meant to put him in such a difficult situation. He was a good man, gentle and kind. She hated the thought of causing him distress. But she couldn't possibly have known, back then, what would ultimately come of her association with his family. She would have chosen to return to Charlie a hundred times rather than risk harm to the Cullens.

"But you ultimately decided to go back to your father after a few days," the judge said. "Dr. Cullen confirms that he had already made multiple calls to Child Protective Services on your behalf. Can you explain why you chose to leave, when you knew that help was coming?"

Bella shifted nervously in her chair. She was going to have to talk about Mason now, which she had hoped to avoid. "He threatened someone else," she said softly, clutching tightly at Esme's hands. "He threatened to hurt someone else if I didn't go back."

"You were in contact with him, then? How did he threaten you, Isabella?"

Bella reached into the pocket of her slacks with a shaking hand and withdrew the cheap cell phone that was still linked to Renee's home plan. She handed it down the table to Heidi, who placed it in the judge's hands.

"Objection," Charlie's lawyer said quickly. "Is this new evidence? You can't just present new evidence in court."

"This isn't a criminal trial," the judge reminded him. "Evidence is whatever I say it is. You may listen along with the rest of us if you like." She opened the phone, fiddled with it a little until she successfully accessed Bella's voicemail, and turned up the volume. The only messages were the two Charlie had left months ago—the first threat, which the Cullens had heard, and the second, which they hadn't. Everyone in the room could hear Charlie's cold, mockingly dangerous voice plainly. He grew redder and redder as the recording progressed, but said nothing. Bella feared his outburst, when it came. He was not particularly good at managing his anger. She ducked her forehead against Esme's shoulder and tried not to listen to her father's hateful words. He'd thrown her into a panic attack before with just a voicemail message, and now she was here in a courtroom with him, listening to the same message. He was being forced to confront his actions, and Bella didn't like it one bit. It didn't feel like vindication; she was too afraid of what he would do when he finally exploded. Her breathing sped up and she held close to Esme, willing herself not to fall back into the panic, the fear, the feeling of being under Charlie's thumb. Her senses dimmed, coming to her as if through a fog.

"Bella." Esme's voice was faint, though she was sitting right next to her. "Bella, baby, it's okay. You're fine. Stay with me, sweetheart. You're okay." Cold arms wound around her, drawing her close to a hard, comforting body. Bella buried her face in Esme's silk blouse and held on tightly, as if to a lifeline.

"May I answer for her?" Heidi asked. Bella hadn't even heard the judge ask a question. "She suffers from panic attacks."

It wasn't a full-on attack, Bella wanted to say. She hadn't separated completely from herself, was not adrift in the utter terror that an attack brought on. She was fighting it, holding on to Esme as tightly as she could, struggling to stay afloat.

A murmur was all she heard from the judge.

"Charlie was threatening an infant who, at the time, was a ward of the state. Bella gave birth to him in a hospital in Olympia in April of last year—I was the social worker assigned to the case. She wanted him to be adopted, but Charlie Swan claimed the father was away at military school and could not be reached to sign away his parental rights. The infant, a boy named Mason, was thus in limbo while we tried to contact his father."

Bella fought the pull of the panic, glad she could not harm Esme no matter how hard she held on. She tried to tune out Heidi's words as the social worker explained about Mason's birth, and how she had shown up unexpectedly one day with Jacob in tow to pose as the baby's father. She felt ashamed of her lie, but even now she couldn't think of any other way she could have saved Mason, knowing what she knew then.

Carlisle and Esme helped Heidi tell the story of the next few months—the one meant for non-Cullens. They explained about the note Bella left them with the baby, and that she had disappeared afterward, not to be seen again until she returned to their care a few days ago. They stated firmly that they wanted to keep Bella with them, and they feared not only for her physical and emotional safety if she was returned to Charlie, but for her life as well.

"And, as the monitoring caseworker, you've witnessed no problems in the Cullen household?" the judge asked Heidi. "You have no reservations about allowing the infant to remain in their care? What about Isabella?"

Heidi paused. Bella felt the world slowly leaking back in, the fog dissipating. She loosened her grip on Esme slightly, but did not move her head.

"I have no reservations about keeping Mason with his adoptive family," Heidi confirmed. "He is developmentally on track, and he has adjusted well to his new environment. The older children are wonderful caretakers—we mentioned already that one of the daughters is home with him right now. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen have exemplary backgrounds and a long history of parenting adopted children. I can think of no better placement for him."

"And Isabella?"

"She has a bond with the entire family. You heard it from them, and you can see with your own eyes where she looks for comfort. You've read my report, and I have very little to add to it. My official recommendation is that Isabella Swan should not be returned to her father's custody and that there is nothing wrong with granting her request to stay with the Cullens."

"And you don't see anything wrong with having both mother and child adopted into the same family?"

Heidi did not sound nervous, though this was something Bella had been questioning, too. "Our twin goals are, as you know, to act in the child's best interest, and to keep families together whenever possible. I do not think returning either minor child to Mr. Swan is advisable, but I can only see it as a positive for the little boy to have his biological mother in his life as well as his adoptive parents. As far as adopting, of course I don't make the final decision, but Isabella is seventeen, nearly an adult. If the Cullens want to foster her rather than adopt, I see little harm. They're obviously emotionally committed to each other, so the legal jargon shouldn't really matter."

Bella felt a flash of relief flow through her. While she wouldn't mind being legally adopted by the Cullens, that would make Edward her adoptive brother and that felt…decidedly odd. She took a slow, deep breath and moved her head, peeking out from Esme's embrace.

"Hi, baby," Esme said, and her golden eyes glinted softly. "That one wasn't so bad. I'm proud of you."

"She never had panic attacks before," Renee muttered. "It's a game for attention—all of this is."

"Since you happen to be here," Judge Lucas said, "you can answer a question. Why are we talking about placing Isabella in foster care when you, her mother, are not implicated in the abuse claim?"

"Because I'm not taking an ungrateful liar back home," Renee said, folding her arms over her chest and scowling at the judge. "That lady there," she pointed at Heidi, "asked me before if I would sign away my parental rights. You give me the paper, I'll sign it. Isabella has caused enough trouble for her father and me. She's not coming home with me."

"Ms. Fischer?"

"We've been in touch with Mrs. Dwyer, yes," Heidi confirmed. "Her position regarding Bella's placement has not changed. While I would love to be able to keep at least part of this family together, it seems determined to self-destruct. Mrs. Dwyer has also had her own run-ins with Child Protective Services down in Arizona. Even were she willing, I would not recommend Bella be placed with her."

The judge typed out a few notes on her laptop, then turned to Bella. "Can you tell us, Isabella, what it is you want? If you could have your choice of outcomes, what would you pick?"

Bella took a deep breath. Her heart was still hammering loudly in her chest, too fast and a little unsteady. But she hadn't cried, and she hadn't completely lost herself either. She'd clutched Esme and pulled herself through. "I want to stay with the Cullens," she managed to croak. "They're my family."

"We always were," Esme murmured, hugging Bella gently. "I'm sorry it took us so long to find you."

The soft, soothing words made tears pool in Bella's eyes, though they did not spill over. In a neat and tidy sort of way, she did complete the family. Edward had his mate, correcting the obvious imbalance. But Esme's words meant more than that, she was positive. They weren't just waiting for someone to even out the family. They wanted  _her_. She fit with them in a way she'd never fit with Renee or Charlie. And she was slowly, slowly starting to believe and trust their words of love and encouragement. Statements like Esme's no longer filled her with doubt, but with an even fiercer love for the family that had taken her in when she needed them most.

* * *

The judge declared a lunch break not long after, stating that everyone needed to reassemble in an hour. Charlie and Renee would then get their chance to talk. Bella was afraid of what they might say, but there was really nothing she could do about it. They would say what they would say, and she would have to rebut them as best she could.

Since the Cullens did not eat, they didn't raise a fuss when Bella asked if she could stay in the back of Carlisle's car during their lunch break. The tinted windows would hide her from prying eyes, and she could safely curl up with Edward without fear of Heidi or the judge getting suspicious.

Edward seemed to have the same idea. He slipped into the back seat and tugged her into his arms, her back nestled closely against his chest. "I've wanted to hold you all day," he breathed into her ear. "I hate having to pretend to be your brother."

Yes, Bella understood the feeling. Esme was her wonderful rock, the mother figure she had always ached for. But there was something about Edward's possessive nature that made her feel safer tucked in his cold arms. No, Esme would never let anything happen to her, but Edward took it a step further. He had a violent and vindictive side, and while it frightened her at times, when it came to Charlie she felt better knowing Edward was near.

"It will be okay," he said, letting her turn to the side and cuddle closer. "I'll make sure of it, one way or another."

"The judge seemed sympathetic," Carlisle said calmly, settling back into the driver's seat so he could join the conversation. "Let's focus on the positives for now. You did an excellent job, Bella. I'm extremely proud of you."

"You were awesome, little mouse," Emmett said, poking his head in through the open door. "I almost shed a tear listening to you, and vampires don't cry."

"She wasn't acting," Edward snarled fiercely, his arms tightening around her.

"Naw, I know that. Makes it even better."

"Can you try to eat something, please, Bella?" Esme asked. "I don't want you to get sick again like you did on the trip home from Britain."

Bella could feel her baby's hunger and knew it was a reasonable concern. That wasn't an experience she wanted to go through again, either. She accepted the cold cooked pudding in a bun unenthusiastically, her own stomach still tied in knots. What would Charlie say when the judge let him talk? What would Renee say? Why was she here, anyway? She couldn't stand Washington and had divorced Charlie. Surely that meant she no longer cared what happened to him?

"I can't believe that woman had the gall to show up," Alice growled, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling generally at the parking lot. She, Jasper, and Emmett huddled around Esme's open door. "I can't believe Charlie had the gall to  _ask_  her! Or maybe he didn't—I didn't see him make that decision. I'm sorry, Bella. I would have told you if I'd known."

"I know," Bella said quietly. She didn't blame Alice. Her visions were far from perfect, and Bella didn't rely on them anyway. She nibbled on the food in her hand, determined to stave off another fit of exhaustion. Her own stomach recoiled, but she swore she could feel the baby's delight.

"This morning was hard," Carlisle said, 'but you won't have to talk so much this afternoon. Tell us if you need a break, Bella. I know this is hard for you."

Bella nodded, but she knew that she wouldn't ask for a break. Better not to prolong the torture. She'd always been a Band-Aid ripper. She was tired, but too keyed up to nap. The judge was not unkind, but she was still a frightening authority figure because she ultimately would get to decide where Bella ended up.

"Don't leave me," she said, tucking her head under Edward's chin. She already knew he wouldn't, but she wanted to be sure of him. To hear it again in his soft velvet voice.

"You know I couldn't," he soothed. "No matter what the judge says today, you're mine, Bella. And I'm never leaving you again."


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All standard disclaimers apply.

"Don't leave me," she said, tucking her head under Edward's chin. She already knew he wouldn't, but she wanted to be sure of him. To hear it again in his soft velvet voice.

"You know I couldn't," he soothed. "No matter what the judge says today, you're mine, Bella. And I'm never leaving you again." His arms were a steady presence, tethering her to this new reality where Charlie couldn't hurt her anymore. Mason was safe with Rosalie, she had Edward. Charlie had nothing more he could hold over her head and compel her obedience.

But that didn't keep her from trembling when she took Esme's hand and slipped back into the courtroom. Edward was right behind her and he touched her waist softly with his hands, a gentle reminder that he was here with her, before he had to slip back into brother-mode, pretending she was nothing more to him than another teenager his parents had taken in.

They settled back into their same seats, Charlie and Edward trading glares across the table until the judge entered. She glanced around, making sure everyone was accounted for, before clicking open a file on her laptop and crossing her hands.

"Do I need to remind anyone about the rules?" she asked, looking hard at both Renee and Charlie.

No one said anything.

"Then, Mr. Swan, I'm giving you the opportunity to refute anything that was said this morning. You may speak, but keep it civil."

Charlie bristled at the warning. "I'm the chief of police of Forks," he said, and he sounded almost petulant. "My behavior is above reproach. I object to any court digging into my personal life and making accusations."

"That is not a topic under consideration," Judge Lucas said firmly. "The state's job is to investigate any and all claims of child abuse, regardless of the adult in question. A police officer, a construction worker, or the president, it makes no difference. Do you have anything relevant to say?"

"We have several points we'd like to bring up, your honor," the lawyer said quickly before Charlie could open his mouth again. "After discussing with my client and his ex-wife, we have numerous objections to make."

"Proceed," the judge said, clearly relieved that Charlie wasn't talking at the moment.

"We would like to lodge a formal complaint about the so-called evidence in this case. You yourself have admitted that most of it wouldn't stand up in a criminal court. Why should there be a double standard? If it isn't admissible evidence, it should never have come before you."

"And who is to decide what is and isn't admissible, if not me?" the judge asked, clearly amused. "There is no jury to sway here, counselor, and believe me, in over twenty years on the bench I've seen and heard it all. I'll state again that your client is not under arrest and has been charged with no crime. The standards for evidence do not apply here, and I am tasked with acting in the best interests of the child, not with assigning guilt or innocence to the parent. Next point."

The lawyer checked something off on the yellow legal pad in front of him. He looked like he maybe hadn't really expected to win that one. "We'd furthermore like to call the testimony of Isabella Swan into question. She is not a reliable witness, and we can provide several proofs of lies she has told."

"That," the judge said, "is a more reasonable complaint. You may continue."

"Heidi Fischer stated that Isabella visited her office with a young man, Jacob Black, who signed away parental rights to the infant boy she bore. But we contend that, in fact, Jacob Black is not the father of the child and had no right to do so. Isabella conned him into helping her, willingly deceiving her son's caseworker and therefore the state of Washington."

Bella felt her stomach drop into her feet. Her vision wavered. Jake wasn't Mason's biological father, and Charlie knew it. Even without her second pregnancy as ammunition, Charlie was able to tear holes in her credibility.

"May I speak to the matter at hand, your honor?" Heidi said, to Bella's surprise. At the judge's nod, she continued. "Mr. Swan made the same accusation to me a while back, in an attempt to have the boy's adoption annulled and the child turned over to him. I interviewed Mr. Black and his father at their house, and I obtained a DNA sample from him at the same time. It is true that Jacob Black is not Mason Cullen's father, but I chose to let the adoption stand. Since it's just third-hand hearsay at this point I realize my words are inadmissible as evidence, but Jacob told me what Isabella said to convince him to do this."

"I'll accept hearsay for the time being," the judge said. "What was the boy's answer?"

"He said that Isabella claims she was raped by one of her father's friends, and that Mr. Swan knew about it. Jacob didn't go into detail. But the implication, as I'm sure you can see, is that the alleged biological father of Mason Cullen is an older man. Since Ms. Swan was just fifteen years old when the assault took place, that's statutory rape even if it was consensual. Isabella has been remarkably brave, confronting her father for his abuse. I am not at all surprised that she didn't want to tackle yet another monster at the same time. Her lie was meant to protect her child from Charlie's threat, which you yourself heard. I don't fault her for it, and I even find her actions commendable. She didn't think she could trust the system, and we had given her absolutely no reason to. Under the circumstances, I think she did the best she could to protect her son, despite the fact that she knew she could not care for him"

"It's lies!" Charlie shouted, his face red. "I don't know whose bastard that boy is—maybe someone from Phoenix. But he isn't Jacob Black's, and he isn't some rapist's! That's what these girls all do; they hide behind the word rape the minute they have to face consequences for their irresponsible actions!"

Bella flinched. It was her word against her father's at this point. And who would believe an admitted liar over the chief of police?

"There's an easy way to settle this," Patrice said calmly. "Isabella, honey, do you know who he is? Your attacker?"

Bella nodded shakily, wishing desperately for Edward's arms to hide in.

"Can you tell me his name, Bella?"

She swallowed. The only time she'd spoken that name had been to Edward, and maybe she was naïve, but she hadn't expected it to come up today. The vicious attack wasn't something she wanted to talk about right now. Wasn't it enough that she was confronting Charlie and an unexpected Renee? Did they have to bring up every single thing she wanted to forget, to pack away in the dark corners of her mind and not deal with? "Frank," she whispered. "Frank Zinecki."

"He's a friend of your father's?"

Bella nodded again, feeling hopelessness swim slowly through her body. She couldn't lie to a judge, nor did she really want to. She just wanted to deal with one thing at a time—was that so much to ask? Apparently it was, because they were making her confront everything now, all at once. "He's on the T-Tacoma force." She closed her eyes tightly and, as Esme's arm slid around her and drew her close, the voice of her foster-mother floated through her memory.  _The ties between you, Charlie, your rapist, and Mason are twisted and deep._  Yes. Yes, they were. Maybe this was inevitable. Maybe there  _was_ no way to confront Charlie without also facing the reality of what his friend had done to her—what Charlie had implicitly condoned by not pressing charges, not taking her tearful admission seriously.

"All we need to do is run another paternity test," Patrice said, turning back to the judge. "Everyone has confirmed that Jacob Black is not Mason Cullen's biological father. So we test this Frank Zinecki. If Ms. Swan is telling the truth, the paternity test will turn out positive. If Mr. Swan is, then it won't."

"That doesn't mean my client knew anything about the alleged attack," Charlie's lawyer protested.

Oh, but Charlie  _had_  known. He'd been there afterward, had believed—or  _chosen_  to believe—Frank's word over his daughter's, and had punished her for telling lies. Even when she turned up pregnant, he'd refused to admit the truth.

"No, it doesn't," the judge agreed. "But it certainly answers some questions. Ms. O'Connell, I'll sign a warrant to obtain a DNA sample if you present one to me."

Patrice made a note on her chart.

"I'm going to set aside the question of credibility for now," Judge Lucas added. "Both Ms. Swan and her father have lied to authorities on one or more occasions. I'm inclined to believe Ms. Fischer as to Isabella's reasons, but her father's have not yet been explained to me."

"I haven't lied!" Charlie insisted. "When did I lie? Who's accusing me of lying?"

"Just now, or to the doctor and caseworker when Mason Cullen was born," the judge said simply. "Did you or did you not tell Ms. Fischer in April of last year that Mason's biological father was at military school and could therefore not be reached?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, "I said that. So what—"

"And did you or did you not just now claim that you don't know who your grandson's biological father is, only that he does not belong to Jacob Black?"

Charlie opened his mouth, then quickly shut it again. His face turned a shade paler; he had clearly been caught in a lie.

"I don't see how the child's father matters," Renee said irritably. "I thought we were here to talk about how Isabella can't be trusted. I didn't even know she was pregnant! What kind of girl hides the fact that she's pregnant from her own mother?"

"A terrified one, I assure you," Heidi said flatly. She looked at Renee, her eyes hard. "It's quite common in my line of work. I hear stories from mothers all the time, mothers who didn't know their daughters were pregnant until it became impossible to hide."

Renee continued as if the social worker hadn't even spoken. "That girl has always been sneaky. She can't be trusted, and you're wasting our time listening to this crock of—"

"Language," Charlie's lawyer hissed, cutting off whatever she was about to say.

Renee cast him an irritated look and went on. "Do you know that she got me in trouble with the authorities in Arizona when she was little? And for what—for feeding her  _vegetables_! For Chrissakes, no wonder we have an obesity epidemic in this country if you all go around disciplining parents for giving their kids vegetables! Why don't you go nag the moms taking their kids to McDonalds, huh?"

"Mrs. Dwyer," Judge Lucas said sharply, "that is  _quite_  enough. One more outburst from you and I'll remove you from the courtroom. If you want a chance to speak, you'll have to wait until I give you permission. Furthermore, I've already carefully gone over Isabella's file, including all the paperwork from the state of Arizona. You were not cited for feeding your daughter vegetables. You were cited for failure to provide adequate care because she was ridiculously underweight and malnourished. The state made you attend childhood nutrition classes; did you learn nothing from them?"

"She looks fine to me," Renee grumbled, slouching slightly in her chair like a cranky teenager. "Clearly whatever terrible things you think I did, it didn't hurt her any."

But what Bella was only now beginning to realize was that there were many different kinds of hurt. Some caused physical damage, like the scars etched on her body by Charlie, some of which would never fade. Others left invisible scars on the psyche, twisting and molding the emotions and persona into something it would otherwise never have been. Renee never laid a hand on her in anger, and for that, Bella was grateful. But she had also never laid a hand on her in love. The little gestures between family members that spoke more than words had been missing from Bella's childhood, and that absence had played a big part in shaping her into the person she was now. Charlie had created the fear she so hated, the constant instinct to shy away from other people lest they try to harm her. But Renee had instilled in her the paradoxical need for contact, for the love and affection she had been denied as a child. The two competing desires had nearly pulled her to pieces until one unlikely family, an inhuman family she by all rights probably ought to be afraid of, had stepped in to fill the empty places inside and soothe the almost unbearable fear. Renee  _had_  hurt her, despite the fact that Bella had tried for so long to tell herself otherwise. The scars weren't visible, but they were there just the same.

Judge Lucas eyed Renee for a long moment, then folded her arms on the table in front of her. "Since you insist on talking," she said, "you can answer some questions for me, Mrs. Dwyer. I find it interesting that you bring up your lack of involvement in your teenage daughter's pregnancy. Can you explain to the court how and why you, as a mother, failed to notice what was going on with your daughter?"

Renee scowled. "You're trying to paint me as a bad mother. Well, it's not going to work. I took Bella with me when I left Charlie, okay? I didn't abandon her. She's my kid, and I tried. We did fun things; there were always art supplies all over the house. No kid has ever had their creativity more stimulated. Except she's always been too serious, too moody. I swear, that girl was emo before she was old enough to know what the word meant. So dramatic! She dragged around the house like a little lost puppy, and she was never friendly to any of the men I'd bring home. By the time she was fifteen I just assumed she wanted to be left alone. She was a  _teenager_. Teenagers don't like moms nagging and snooping in their business."

"That thing you call nagging and snooping?" the judge said dryly. "That's called parenting. I'm not seeing in any records that you've done much of it. There's more to raising a child than buying clothes and food periodically."

"Bella loves me!" Renee snapped, her voice growing louder. Her garish orange fingernails scratched at the table as she tensed. "She was always more like a friend than a kid. She came out of the womb a mini-adult, okay? She didn't  _need_  raising!"

"Children aren't born with that level of responsibility, Mrs. Dwyer. They develop it when circumstances demand it of them." The judge looked at her for a long moment. "So your answer to my question is that you didn't know your daughter was pregnant because she's allegedly moody?"

"Anything sounds bad if you say it like that," Renee muttered. "Charlie Swan, you liar! You didn't tell me they'd be interrogating me! You just said I had to tell them that Bella's a moody little liar and we'd be done."

"Watch your tone, Mrs. Dwyer. I told you I won't accept incivility in my courtroom."

"I would like to give Renee Dwyer the opportunity to speak freely, your honor," Charlie's lawyer said, shifting his papers a little nervously as the entire courtroom full of inhumanly lovely people focused on him. "She is here to provide testimony as to Isabella's personality and behavior, which speaks directly to the question of why we're here. Both parents—divorced parents, I might add—contend that their daughter's allegations toward her father are not only false, but patently ridiculous. How can we present our case if we can't speak to her character?"

Judge Lucas seemed to mull that around in her head. She looked at Mr. Garcia, then Renee, then Charlie, studying the faces on their side of the table. "You may speak," she said finally. "But bear in mind, I have the right to stop you at any time. And you must at least attempt to express yourself without rancor."

Bella cringed. The admonition to remain civil didn't make her feel any better. She didn't want to be in the room to hear this. Her parents were going to sit there and tear apart her reputation and personality in front of her, and there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't fair—Charlie wasn't even trying to deny the evidence. He simply pretended it didn't exist, focusing on tearing down her credibility instead.

"No."

The cold fury in Edward's voice made her flinch. His eyes were nearly black when she dared turn her head, and he was glaring at Judge Lucas as if his gaze alone could burn her.

"You can't make her sit here and listen to this shit!" he growled. "It's not fair!"

" _Edward_ ," Carlisle hissed, but the warning went unheeded.

"If your job really is to act in Bella's best interest, then do it," Edward snapped. "Don't let them sit there and tear her apart with smiles on their fucking faces! Can't you see that this is what they want? They want to destroy her, and I won't let them!"

"If I may, your honor," Patrice said, cutting Edward off, "while Mr. Cullen's outburst was utterly unacceptable, he brings up a valid point. Should Ms. Swan really have to hear this?"

The judge leaned back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes," she said finally. "It's not kind, but Mr. Garcia is right. Her credibility speaks to the issue at hand. Mr. Cullen, one more outburst and I will ask you to leave. Is that clear?"

Edward did not answer, but Bella watched his fist clench impossibly tight as he glared across the table at Charlie and Renee. He was holding onto his temper by the thinnest of threads, and she honestly didn't know what he might do if he lost it. She didn't fear for her own safety, but for the repercussions if Edward hurt or killed any of the people on the other side of the table.

"That boy is nothing but trouble!" Charlie shouted, his face red as he pointed a menacing finger at Edward. "You didn't even address the fact that he broke into my house, assaulted me, and abducted Isabella! If anyone should be on trial here, it's him!"

"Maybe he's the kid's father, if he's such trouble. Maybe that's why she wants to live with them."

It was only a passing comment from Renee, who never thought before she opened her mouth. But Bella felt her stomach clench tightly anyway. No, Mason certainly was not Edward's, but Renee's quip hit far too close to home. She  _was_  carrying Edward's child, though no one but the family knew it. And while he wasn't the reason she wanted to stay with the Cullens, she was terrified of the judge's reaction if her relationship with Edward came to light. When he lost his temper he could act extremely irrationally, and all she could do was hope he didn't blow up in a way that caused trouble for them all.

"Enough!" Judge Lucas slammed her hand down on the desk, and all noise in the room ceased. "Mr. Garcia, if you can't control your client, he will be found in contempt of court and asked to leave. Is that clear? Ms. O'Connell, the same goes for you."

Alice yanked furiously on Edward's arm and Bella watched them communicate silently with their eyes, trading thoughts and visions back and forth. Whatever she conveyed, Alice won. Edward settled back in his chair, jaw tight, eyes unhappy. His hand reached out, cupping Bella's knee again under the table. She was glad to give him that comfort, since he'd done the same for her so many times. She put her hand over his and squeezed, though she knew it wouldn't really help. Nothing but a positive outcome to this hearing could do that.

Jasper looked about as sick as she'd ever seen a vampire, and Bella couldn't blame him. With all the emotion in the room ready to boil over, it was a miracle he'd lasted this long. It would be asking far too much of him to expect him to assist in calming Edward or her parents down, but she still wished it was possible.

"She's always been trouble," Charlie hissed, narrowing his eyes at Bella across the table. "My friend Billy Black said that girls were ten times harder than boys, because girls were sneaky as shit. I didn't believe him at first, but I started to after Isabella came. No matter what sort of discipline I tried, it was never enough. She's a liar, a sneak, and a manipulative little brat. That's why we're all here today, because she fooled you into thinking Renee and I are some sort of awful parents when in fact we're just doing the best we can. Some kids are born that way, no matter what their parents do."

"Mr. Swan," Judge Lucas said, "this court requires examples of behavior patterns, not vague complaints. Can you describe for me a situation in which Isabella acted as you contest?"

Charlie scowled. "I don't have a situation," he growled. "It's always. All the time. How can I separate one little instance from the past seventeen years?"

"Ms. Swan did it," the judge replied coolly. "In her taped discussion with the Cullens, she was able to describe a multitude of occasions of abuse, separating out specific instances from the whole of her life. If you want me to believe your daughter is lying, you'll have to do the same."

"Well, I can't." Charlie folded his arms over his chest defensively. "All that means is that she's got a better imagination than I got memory. She's a teenage girl. I'm a middle-aged man. It's not surprising."

"Mr. Swan, if you can't give me concrete examples, then I'm afraid this line of inquiry is over. Vague complaints about moodiness aren't going to hold up in my court."

Charlie's expression turned even grimmer, but neither he nor Renee offered a clear example.

"Since we've brought up the question of Ms. Swan's taped statement, let's continue with it," Judge Lucas said. She clicked several times on her laptop. "Mr. Swan, you contend that the allegations of abuse are false. How do you explain what Isabella says on the tape? The video and photographic evidence of severe physical damage?"

"She's a liar." He rubbed his moustache, and Bella wondered for a split second if he was nervous. She didn't think she'd ever seen him nervous before. "And a klutz. She's always tripping over her own feet. Whoever said girls were graceful obviously never met Bella." He snickered.

Esme's arm tightened around Bella's shoulders, and the girl let it soothe her. Yes, she was clumsy. She'd always been clumsy. But she couldn't let Charlie use that as an excuse for all her injuries anymore. She was seventeen years old. It was time and past for all of this to stop.

"I have confirmation both from Dr. Cullen and from…" Judge Lucas flipped through her paperwork, "…a Dr. Marietta McCauley, head of the forensics training lab at the University of Washington, that many of the documented injuries could not be self-inflicted, either through clumsiness or self injury. A burn, for instance, just here." She flipped the laptop around, showing the photo of a scabby, angry splotch on Bella's hip. "The Cullens say Bella tried to explain it away as an accident with a curling iron, but both doctors confirm that the explanation is inconsistent with the injury. And the body's natural reaction to such extreme heat is an instinctual jerk away. No—a burn like that could only be inflicted by an instrument like a curling iron if the victim were held down and forced to endure it."

"He's biased," Charlie said, pointing accusingly at Carlisle.

"Which is why a second opinion was sought. Do you accuse the head of UW's forensics training lab of bias as well?"

"Maybe," Charlie said belligerently. "Maybe it's a conspiracy and you're all in it together! What's this really about—you want my badge, don't you? Well, you won't get it! My town loves me."

"Dear god." The judge rubbed her temples slowly. "If you expect to be taken seriously in my courtroom, Mr. Swan, the word 'conspiracy' better not pass your lips again."

Bella chanced a glance down the table at Jasper, wondering if he had somehow provoked Charlie's crazy outburst. His beautiful face was stoic; she couldn't tell from his expression. Though she had originally wanted to win this trial all on her own, her energy stores were rapidly depleting. She hadn't eaten enough today and she could feel her baby's growing hunger. How much longer until the judge would let them leave? If Jasper or any of the other Cullens could speed up the process, she was willing to let them. Anything for a positive verdict and a quick end to this mess.

"It seems to me," Judge Lucas said, "that at least part of this case hinges on the difference between reasonable discipline and physical abuse. I don't think anyone in this room would dispute that Mr. Swan has physically disciplined his daughter throughout her life. The question, therefore, lies in the acceptability of his chosen methods. To make it clear to everyone in this room, 'reasonableness' describes, quote, 'a range of behavior that society or a particular community deems normal and thus not an appropriate basis for liability, guilt, or action otherwise.' Is that clear?"

Bella thought she understood. But how could anyone think Charlie's punishments were normal? Forcing her outside at night in the rain? Nailing her in a small box in the garage?

"State law in this case, unfortunately, is less than clear," the judge continued. "The use of reasonable corporal punishment by parents is permitted. Serious injury is not. This is the criteria by which caseworkers must decide whether to get involved in a situation or leave it be. Isabella's description of the punishment her friend Jacob Black receives fits squarely within his father's parental rights. Her description of Mr. Swan's discipline, however, does not. Causing injury such as burns, dislocations, and bleeding, welts, or bruises is categorically unacceptable in my opinion, and in this courtroom my opinion is the one that counts. Had the problem been discovered earlier, a caseworker likely would have worked with Mr. Swan to correct his parenting style while trying to keep Isabella in the home. Parenting classes often work wonders when a little education is all that's necessary. However, this secret has festered for years without treatment, and it is clearly causing definitive harm to the minor child in question. Not only is she a teenage mother, but she has also run away. Ms. Fischer chooses to see these actions as cries for help rather than signs of delinquency, and I choose not to contest that finding since I don't know Isabella well enough to form an educated opinion."

Bella held her breath. Was this it? Was the judge delivering her decision? Her heart stuttered and nearly stopped.

"Ms. Fischer is quite right that the dual goals of her department and this court are to act in the best interest of our state's children, and to keep families together."

Bella's heart plummeted. They were going to give her back to Charlie, or talk Renee into taking her. Why did keeping families together matter so much when the people in those families were causing problems?

"As I have stated before, Mr. Swan is not on trial here. I cannot and will not categorically state whether Isabella's injuries came from his hand, and whether he should be legally liable for his actions. That is a question for criminal court. I will, however, agree with Ms. Fischer's recommendation that the minor child Isabella Swan not be returned to her father's care. There is clearly too much animosity between them, and I find it difficult to believe Ms. Swan would be physically safe after the allegations she has made." She paused and looked at Charlie. "You have one more chance to change my mind, Mr. Swan. Can you explain to me why you want your daughter back, considering all that has happened? There seems to be little love lost between the two of you. Tell me why I should change my mind."

"She's  _mine_!" Charlie snarled, his face turning deep red. "I'm her father, and nobody has the right to say I can't correct her behavior! You're not her parent! You don't know her!"

Bella ducked her head against Esme's shoulder, and a cold hand cupped her cheek to keep her there. "Shh, baby," Esme's crooning voice said. "You're fine."

"She's not yours!" Edward snarled right back at Charlie, rising out of his chair and planting his palms on the table. It was the stance of someone itching for a fight, his body vibrating with the desire to hurl himself over the table and tear her father to pieces. "Don't you  _dare_  sit there and say she's yours!"

Bella struggled to move, tried to turn herself to stop him, if she could, from doing something he would regret later. Esme held her still against her shoulder, keeping her in place.

"Stay here, baby," she whispered, her voice tight. "I don't want you getting hurt. Just stay out of the way for a moment."

Bella obeyed, but it was hard. She could feel his anger even though she couldn't see him—it crackled, radiating off of him in waves. Edward would never hurt her and she wasn't afraid of him, but she pressed close to Esme nonetheless. Her arms wrapped around her own midsection, hugging herself tightly.

And that's when she felt it.

She couldn't remember the first time she'd felt Mason move inside her, but she knew instantly what this feeling was. It was like a little bubble popping, a tiny series of taps inside her body. Her breath caught in her throat, and she jerked her head free of Esme's protective grasp. Edward needed to know. Before he did anything rash, he  _needed_  to know.

He wasn't looking at her, his body squared aggressively with Charlie's, but Alice caught her eye with a speaking glance. She knew. Her notoriously unreliable visions when it came to Bella had somehow let this through, and she'd seen—sensed—whatever it was she did—the baby's quickening only moments before Bella herself felt it. One perfectly manicured hand reached out and yanked desperately at Edward's tensed arm. "Edward!" she hissed.

Whether anything less would have got through to him, Bella couldn't say. His hands clenched on the table, but a moment later he shifted backward minutely. His fury had not abated and Bella could feel the thin threads of control holding him back, keeping him from tearing her father to pieces. She didn't know exactly why Alice's vision of the baby stopped him, but she was glad. Charlie wasn't worth it.

"Dr. Cullen, remove your son from the courtroom this instant!" Judge Lucas snapped, pointing at Edward. "I will not tolerate threats against anyone, and I warned you before!"

Carlisle nodded at Emmett, who rose and took Edward by the shoulder. "Come on, bro," he said softly. "She'll be okay. I know you wanna protect her, but you gotta wait."

Jasper stood up, too. He looked like a migraine sufferer, but he helped Emmett ease Edward back from the table. Edward cast one tortured glance at Bella, huddled in his mother's arms, before his brothers coaxed him out of the courtroom.

"I apologize for the outburst, your honor," Carlisle said, and his voice was impeccably smooth and repentant. "Edward is not violent, but all of our children feel very protective toward Bella, as you can see."

"Clearly," the judge said, watching Bella carefully. "Ms. Swan, are you all right?"

Bella nodded shakily, returning her head to Esme's shoulder. She was okay, marginally at least, but she wanted Edward back.

"That boy threatened me!" Charlie insisted. "I want to press charges!"

"You provoked him," Judge Lucas said flatly, "and you've also disregarded the rules of my courtroom. If I wasn't ready to give my recommendation, I'd have you removed too." She glanced back and forth between the two lawyers. Mr. Garcia was looking a little pale, but Patrice seemed to take the outburst in stride. "It is the decision of this court to permanently remove the minor child Isabella Swan from the custody of her father, Charles Swan, due to the likelihood of ongoing physical danger in the home. Ordinarily in such circumstances the divorced spouse would receive full custody of the minor child, but Renee Dwyer has already stated that she will not accept Isabella back into the home. I am left with no alternative but to turn the child over to the care of the state, whose recommendation is that she be permitted to stay with her short-term foster parents, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, in a more permanent arrangement."

Bella didn't know if she was flying or falling. Her stomach churned, her heart beat solidly in her throat. They were going to let her stay with the Cullens! The judge was revoking Charlie's custody, and she would never have to see him again!

"Furthermore, since Mr. Swan and the Cullens live in such close proximity, I am requesting that the state provide me with a protective order I may sign on behalf of Isabella and her foster family. Ms. O'Connell?"

"I'll have it for you before the day is out, your honor."

"I have to say," Judge Lucas said, sitting back in her chair, "that this is not the sort of outcome I like to see at all. I'm more than a little disturbed by the lack of interest in your daughter's well-being, both of you. This is a case that should have come before the court years ago but, unfortunately, that's something I see all too often in this room. What I  _don't_  see so often is this curious insistence on blaming Isabella in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Divorced spouses usually blame each other, not their children. This is not a criminal court and I have no authority to do anything but remove your daughter from your care, but I have to say, I hope the criminal justice system throws the book at both of you."


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people have asked how long this is going to be. As far as chapters, I don't know. I do not outline like some other writers do. If I did, I'd never actually get to the writing phase. It's the question of what's gonna come out of my fingers that keeps me going! As far as the storyline goes, I *do* know where this is going to end. We'll get through Charlie's criminal trial, the birth of the baby, and Bella's transformation (not necessarily in that order). Frank and Jacob are going to get their comeuppance. There won't be a wedding scene/chapter for the same reason that I didn't end up writing Christmas - I find them boring (sorry, hopeless romantics!). But I definitely still have some surprises up my sleeve for those of you still with me! (Also, two epilogues that are already written.)
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella couldn't believe the amount of paperwork necessary to fully, legally sever her from Charlie and Renee. It wasn't just one quick signature from each of them, as she'd naively assumed. Renee signed everything put in front of her with a kind of resigned impatience, but Charlie adamantly refused to put pen to paper until he was informed that disobeying the judge's order would land him in lockup. Even then, the furious clench of his fist on the pen showed that he was far from compliant and he almost ripped the paper with the force of his scrawl. Bella was a little afraid of what his reaction might be later on, when the judge and the state police were no longer hovering, but she tried to push those thoughts away. Legally, he couldn't do anything to her anymore. She didn't belong to him.

"I wish we could have done this years ago," Esme said softly as she and Carlisle signed the placement paperwork, agreeing to keep Bella until her eighteenth birthday unless something unforeseen happened. She cupped Bella's face in her hands, smiling at her newest daughter. Bella knew by now that the Cullens could not cry, but she saw the telltale sheen in Esme's eyes that would never fall.

"I love you," she said, letting herself fold into Esme's embrace. Edward and his brothers were still outside and she yearned for him, but having Esme was a wonderful relief. She was everything Bella could possibly have wished for in a mother—soft and caring, nurturing without being overbearing. She had no doubt that Esme, Rose, and even Alice would be excellent guides as she started on this new life as a member of the Cullen family. They would be there for her when her baby was born, and when—eventually—she took that final step and agreed to become a vampire.

Renee's eyes were coldly accusing when Bella raised hers, watching the interaction from the other side of the table, but Bella didn't care. Renee wasn't Charlie, but she hadn't been capable of giving Bella what she so desperately needed when she was young. In that respect, Bella did not blame her for her faults. But she  _did_  blame Renee for her blindness, her inability to see the truth. Her insistence that she had been a perfect mother hurt badly, if Bella was willing to admit it. She would be much better able to forgive Renee everything if her mother admitted that her rearing had been less than ideal.

"Charlie says your new  _family_  is filthy rich." Renee stood on her side of the table, her arms folded across her chest, weight resting on one leg, hip cocked to the side, in a loose teal dress. "I bet that makes it a whole lot easier to play the sweet daughter, doesn't it?"

Bella pressed closer to Esme, her face heating as she was forced to listen to her mother's insinuation. The Cullens wouldn't believe it, would they? They loved her. They knew her. They knew she didn't want their money, right?

"Bella is a sweet, conscientious young woman," Esme said evenly, her arms never moving from Bella's back. "If you knew her at all, you'd know that she isn't attached to material objects."

"Not attached to material objects?" Renee raised an eyebrow. "Then what's that thing around her neck? Looks like a material object to me."

Bella grasped Esme's necklace, warm from her body heat. It gave her comfort and she didn't like to take it off. Had wearing it today been a bad idea?

"It's a family heirloom," Esme said, brushing back Bella's hair with one gentle hand, "and therefore has a great deal of emotional significance. I'm extremely happy to see my youngest daughter wearing it, I assure you."

"You can feed her and put clothes on her back," Renee hissed, "but you'll  _never_  be her mother. She doesn't need one. Hell, she doesn't even  _want_  one. You've known her for what, a few months? I had her for sixteen years. Don't think you know my daughter better than I do."

"I'm sorry to have to correct you, ma'am," Carlisle said, his voice soft and professional—the voice he used to speak to drunk or belligerent patients, "but, according to this, she's not your daughter anymore." He held up the paper he had just signed, just one of many, but the significance of it was not lost. "I'm afraid you can't have it both ways. You gave her up, which, I'm sorry to say, is probably the best thing you've ever done for her. Let's not ruin the gesture with cruel words, shall we?"

"Yes, let's not," Patrice agreed, making neat stacks of paperwork. She and Charlie's lawyer were handling everything very efficiently, explaining each form before passing it to their respective clients for signatures. Bella wondered if she would be asked to sign anything, but she was too rattled to ask and, so far, she had not. Apparently her minor status meant that she was free from that responsibility, and she was actually a little glad. She'd always been self-sufficient, and it was surprisingly nice to just sit back this once and let Carlisle and Esme do this for her.

"Try not to hold your stomach, sweetheart," Esme whispered close to her ear, and Bella quickly dropped her arm. Hugging herself was an instinctive action, but Esme was right; it was best that nobody had any reason to suspect she might be pregnant again. "We'll be done soon," the soothing whisper continued.

Bella hoped so. She missed Edward, and she was a little afraid of what he might do if he were separated from her much longer. How far did his mind-reading ability reach? Was he close enough to know that the judge had terminated Charlie's parental rights to her? For his sake, she hoped so. He was a worrier, and she hated to think that he was anxious over nothing. Plus, her daughter was hungry again. She needed to eat something soon if she didn't want to get sick.

"Now," Patrice said, "there's the matter of Isabella's paperwork. Your summons, Mr. Swan, indicated that you were to bring her birth certificate, Social Security card, and any other legal documents with you."

"Well, I didn't." Charlie shoved away the last piece of paper he had to sign. "I never thought an American judge would take my child away from me. This is communism, you know?"

Patrice ignored the complaints. "It wasn't a request, Mr. Swan. That was a legal edict."

"If we may," Carlisle said quietly, and he nodded to Esme. From her purse, she extracted a small handful of documents. Bella's eyes widened. Were those her real papers, or had the Cullens had another set forged for just such an occasion? She tried to keep her expression neutral as the paperwork was handed off to Patrice, who looked everything over. The little green Social Security card, the black and white birth certificate, even a passport in a little blue cover. "Mr. Swan didn't have them to bring. Bella is an intelligent young woman, and she brought her own documents with her when she left Charlie."

That was a bald-faced lie; Bella had done no such thing. But she recalled the night Emmett and Rosalie had brought her some items from her dad's house—a locked door seemed to mean very little to them when they wanted something. Maybe they had been proactive and taken her documents away from Charlie then? Or some other time? It didn't really matter, as long as the lawyer accepted them.

Charlie's face was red, and Bella could feel his black eyes staring into her, though she studiously refused to look at him. Judge Lucas was right—if she had had to return to Charlie after the trial today, Bella felt sure she wouldn't live very long. He wasn't mouthing off like Renee, but she could feel the fury rolling off of him in waves. If he was ever permitted to be alone with her again, she was in serious trouble.

"Mr. Swan," Patrice continued after she had gone through Bella's identifying documents and returned them to Carlisle, "about the order of protection..." She shifted in her seat, looking...not fearful, Bella decided, but as if she were trying to find the right words. "It goes into effect the minute you walk out of this courtroom. We have a little problem, since the Forks police department will of necessity be the ones enforcing it. I'm counting on Mr. Garcia, as the lawyer for the department and not just you, to keep everyone honest and above board. There will be state patrollers checking in periodically, particularly since a criminal investigation is ongoing. Is there anything about this that you don't understand?"

Charlie was murderously silent.

"Then I'd like to ask you and your lawyer to remain here for fifteen minutes while Isabella and the Cullens head out. Mrs. Dwyer, there is no order against you, so you're free to go whenever you please."

"There shouldn't be an order against my ex-husband either." Renee dug in her purse with a distracted motion. It was something Bella knew well—the familiar rifling through the messy bag for gum or mints, something to keep her mouth busy. She was a little startled to think that she might never see it again.

"Come on, sweetheart," Esme said, and Bella looked up to find Carlisle smiling warmly at her, his beautiful, serene face reassuring as always. He would be her father now. She still wanted to pursue a criminal case against Charlie, but he wasn't part of her day to day life anymore. She had a chance to learn what it was like to have a  _real_  father, a loving, caring man whose hands were used to heal and help, not hurt. On impulse, she stepped forward and put her arms around his middle, hugging him tight.

His hands were light, perfectly gentle as he squeezed her shoulder and touched the back of her head. He smelled good, like all the Cullens. "I'm very proud of you, Bella," he said quietly.

They were words Charlie had never spoken to her in her life.

She left the courtroom sandwiched between her two new parents, Alice following after she hugged Heidi giddily. Charlie and Renee stayed behind, and Bella did not look back.

* * *

"Bella!"

Edward was on her the moment they reached the parking lot, and she let him span her waist with his hands, picking her up and spinning her once before settling her on her feet again. Out of nowhere, as his arms wrapped around her and held her tightly, tears began to fall from her eyes. She couldn't stop them. She felt a little hysterical as she pressed her face into Edward's button-down shirt and held her breath against the cries that threatened to emerge from her throat.

"What's wrong?" His hands traveled over her swiftly, his voice tight and anxious. "Sweet girl, what's wrong? Are you hurt? He can't touch you anymore, Bella. You did it—you're free."

And, for some reason, that broke her. A strangled sob left her mouth despite her best efforts to hold them at bay, and she clung tightly to Edward's shoulders, hiding in his collar.

"I think she's just a little overwrought, son," Carlisle said gently. "It was quite a day for all of us."

Was that all? Bella didn't know. She couldn't explain even to herself why she was crying, or why her usual control had snapped. She pressed close to Edward, her Cullen, the man she knew would always be there for her, no matter what else might happen. She didn't begrudge him his outburst in the courtroom, but she had missed him after he was told to leave. Just knowing he was there made her feel so much better.

"Shh, baby," he murmured, and Bella let his soft, cool hands soothe her, his voice almost tangible as he whispered to her. His fingers stroked through her hair and down the subtle curve of her spine, cupped the back of her neck and let her hide against him. "You're fine. Everything will be okay now."

"We'd better get going," Jasper said, glancing worriedly at the door to the family court building. "Charlie isn't very happy right now."

"I bet." Emmett didn't sound sorry in the least.

"We can talk about everything when we get home." Carlisle dug his keys out of his pants pocket and clicked the button to unlock his car. "Let's get on our way—Jasper has an excellent point."

Bella managed to choke down the leftovers from lunch as they pulled onto the freeway headed out of Olympia, north toward home. She wasn't hungry, but she knew better than to deny the baby in her belly. Once had definitely been enough.

When she was done, she curled close to Edward and closed her eyes. He wrapped a throw blanket around her, then his arms, and she sighed softly. This would be her future from now on. No more fear. No more Charlie. Heidi would check in on them from time to time during the next few months until she turned eighteen, but that wasn't anything they couldn't handle.

She was free.

"I'm so, so sorry I lost my temper in there," Edward said, his voice buzzing against her cheek as he spoke. "I just...when I heard him claim you like some object..."

"I know." She rubbed her thumb slowly against his shirt, just over the spot where his heart would beat if he were still alive. "I'm just glad you stopped."

"Alice showed me..." His voice trailed off, and he shifted so he could slip his hand over the gentle swell of her growing belly. "When do you think I'll be able to feel her?"

"What's this now?" Carlisle glanced at them through the rearview mirror. "Bella, did you feel the fetus?"

Bella nodded, dropping her hand to cover Edward's. She threaded her fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "In the courtroom," she said quietly. "I...couldn't quite believe it."

"When will I be able to feel her?" Edward repeated. He sounded a little put out, and Bella couldn't help but think it was cute.

"Twenty-four to twenty-six weeks for a normal human fetus," Carlisle said. "As far as I can tell, vampire senses aren't any better than regular human hands in this case—but, as I keep saying, there's no guarantee with this little one." He paused for a moment as he changed lanes smoothly. Bella could see the dashboard from her position in the back seat. Carlisle was driving quite fast, but not nearly as fast as his children did. "Bella, we've been putting it off, but now that the fetus is moving we really should take you to the hospital and do as thorough an exam as we can."

Bella wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea, but she didn't fight it. Some minor discomfort now was far preferable to something bad happening down the road because they weren't prepared. "What sort of stuff do you want to do?" she asked hesitantly.

"I want some general stats on you, obviously," Carlisle said. "I know we've done this at home, but it will be nice to use the hospital's equipment to get more accurate readings. We'll try for a sonogram—maybe we can see for sure whether that's a daughter you're carrying like you want. You're also right in the perfect window for an amniocentesis, which I would really like to do. It may shed some light on exactly what it is, genetically, that you're carrying."

"Those can be dangerous," Edward objected, pulling her tighter against him. "I won't have you risking my family for the sake of science, Carlisle."

"The risk of complications is extremely low," Carlisle said. "It's my professional opinion that the benefits of knowing more about the nature of this pregnancy outweigh any potential risk by far."

Edward dropped his other hand to rest against her stomach. "Can we not talk about this right now?" he said finally. "We just got through...I need..."

He didn't have to finish his sentence; Bella understood. He'd just been forced away from her in the courtroom after promising he wouldn't leave her. He'd had to leave her with Charlie and, while he trusted his parents and Alice to defend her, Bella knew that it still must have hurt him deeply. Now wasn't a good time to bring up a medical procedure that could potentially harm either her or the fetus she carried, no matter how small Carlisle said the risks were. Edward needed a chance to calm down, to reconnect with her. Pushing for the next challenge wasn't the best choice at the moment.

"Later, please, Carlisle?" she said softly, reaching up to cup Edward's jaw in her hand. He kissed her fingers gratefully, his lips cool and gentle, and she heard him exhale behind her, his firm body relaxing infinitesimally.

"Later, then," Carlisle agreed. "You're right—tonight should be a night for celebrating."

"If I know Alice, she's already planning something." Edward did not sound completely thrilled with the idea, which Bella understood. She was still...she didn't know how she felt. She wasn't full of glee or elation as she'd assumed. More like...like she just didn't know how to react. She was happy, yes, she supposed. Grateful to the Cullens for everything they had done to get to this point. But it was so overwhelming, and she wondered if maybe the reality of the situation hadn't quite sunk in yet. Charlie didn't have a legal right to compel her to do anything anymore. He was out of her life for good, and so was Renee. She'd still have to see him, she supposed, since they lived in the same small town. But he had no claim to her, and never would again.

"I love you," she breathed, ducking her forehead against Edward's strong arm. Her tears had stopped, and she felt a little better now that she had eaten. The steady motion of the car and the flash of greenery outside the window were soothing.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked haltingly. "I'm sorry, love. I know I promised not to leave you, but I couldn't—"

"I know." She did. It wasn't reasonable to ask him to be calm when Charlie threatened and goaded. He didn't have Jasper's patience or Carlisle's control, especially when it came to her. "I understand, and I love you."

"I was so relieved when I heard the judge mentally make her decision." He rubbed his thumb against her blouse, just above the waistband of her jeans. "She believed you from the start, you know. I was worried for a while because she wanted Charlie to be able to explain his side of things. She was hoping that maybe a reconciliation would be possible if he agreed to go to counseling and whatever. But when he started to talk, she realized that it just wasn't happening."

"I'm glad." Bella kissed him gently. "So glad." She remembered well the first time he'd ever touched her, in biology lab. He had taken her chin gently in his cold hand and pulled her lip away from her teeth. At the time she'd jerked out of his grip, extremely nervous and unsure about the sudden attention from her beautiful, grumpy lab partner. The memory made her smile a little now. If she had known then what he would become to her...but it was impossible to know things like that. Even Alice's gift had limits. She could forgive Edward for his overbearing nature, for the possessive streak that made him incapable of sitting by when Charlie acted up. It was part of his personality, and she loved him. She didn't want to change him. It seemed strange now that she had ever wanted to pull away from his hands. They were cold, but she'd quickly learned to associate that with comfort and safety.

"You're mine now," Edward murmured, his voice laced with wonder.

"Ours, technically," Esme called from the front seat, sounding amused. "Mine and Carlisle's."

The corner of his mouth tipped up in amusement. "I only have the most honorable of intentions toward your daughter, ma'am."

Esme's eyes glimmered happily as she turned in her seat to regard them. "See that that continues to be true. She's precious to us."

Bella's cheeks heated, and she ducked her head against Edward's shirt. Even teasing, they were some of the nicest words anyone had ever said to her.

* * *

Rosalie met them at the door, her arms outstretched, and she swept Bella into a tight hug that almost squeezed the breath out of her. Bella only smiled and hugged her sister back, loving the firm grip. She didn't care that the bodies of her new family were cold and hard, that they didn't have to breathe, that they were far stronger than her, their senses more keen. They were hers. They hugged her, and played with her, and spoke gently. The world might see them as monsters, but she knew from experience that there were far worse monsters out there with human blood in their veins.

"Thank you," she whispered, the sweet, feminine smell of her sister surrounding her. She shook strands of Rosalie's light hair out of her eyes, but did not let go. "You were the first person to ever ask if anything was wrong. I kind of feel like I have you to thank for all of this."

"I'm sorry that I was right," Rose murmured back, "but I'm not sorry about how things turned out. You're free now, babe. You're safe." She pulled back, and there was a telltale gleam in her golden eyes even though no tears would ever fall. "You're probably sick of hearing this, but I'm so proud of you."

Bella shook her head. No, she didn't think she could ever get sick of those words. It had taken seventeen years to hear them from someone she loved, and it felt so, so good. Part of her wanted to deny them, to claim that she really hadn't done much. But another part of her remembered how terrifying it had been to sit in a room with Charlie again after all this time, even with Edward and Esme flanking both sides. She was exhausted, elated, and too many things for her to really decipher individual emotions. But through it all, overwhelming thankfulness to and for her new family shone through.

"Sorry, little mouse," Emmett said, tweaking her hair as he came up behind Rosalie. "I know you maybe wanted to tell her yourself, but I just couldn't help calling her from the car. She  _did_  demand to know what was going on as soon as possible."

"It's okay," Bella said, smiling at her new brother as Rose released her. She'd honestly expected Rosalie to know everything before they got home, especially since Emmett had driven far faster than Carlisle, who had a human in the car.

"I want to hear it from you, though," Rose said, pulling Bella into the living room. "I already ordered you a pizza—you can slice some of that sausage stuff on top of it if you want to."

Bella laughed. Her daughter seemed appeased for now, and something else to eat actually sounded pretty good. She let Rosalie settle her on the couch before Edward squeezed in beside her, claiming his spot. His arm slipped around her shoulders, drawing her body close, and she smiled as she felt his gentle kiss against her temple.

"You have no idea how difficult it was to sit there and listen to Charlie's head," he said, grimacing. "I know you want to do this legally, but I really wanted to pull him apart." His arm tightened around her, and Bella burrowed into his side.

"Thank you for not." She turned her head and rubbed her nose gently against his jaw. "I know it must have been hard, but I don't want his blood on your hands."

"There's already blood on my hands. You can't change that."

"No," she agreed, "but I can do my best not to be the cause of more."

"I feel like a toast," Alice said, swirling into the room with Mason in her arms. He clapped and pointed at Emmett, reaching out excitedly for his father. "I wish we could."

"We could all pour just a sip to clink glasses with, and then give it all to Bella," Emmett suggested with a grin. "C'mon, let's get the human drunk!"

"No," Bella and Edward both said firmly, his hand pressing against her belly.

"Not while she's pregnant," Rose reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

" _And_  underage," Carlisle added, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Emmett said you were scared, Bella," Rose said, settling in a chair near the couch, "but that you held up like a champ."

"Like a  _boss_  is actually what I said," Emmett added, holding a squealing Mason above his head as the baby reached for his hair.

"Not the point, babe."

Bella chewed thoughtfully on her lip. "I didn't really feel like I did so great," she admitted quietly. "I panicked, and Heidi had to help me."

"That's what she's for," Esme said, slipping into the room with a glass of soda. She put the drink on the coffee table in front of Bella and smiled at her warmly. "Her job is to help you, honey. And I think you did quite well, considering the circumstances. You had every right to panic when they brought up the topic of that horrible man." She shook her head in distaste.

"I should have expected it. I mean, it's kind of a big deal, right? But I just never thought…" She took comfort from the way Edward was rubbing her belly gently with his thumb, long smooth strokes that soothed her confused, overworked nerves. "I was prepared to talk about Charlie, not… _him_."

"It's a possibility we could have better prepared you for," Carlisle said. "But Heidi didn't plan to bring it up unless it was necessary. She knows it's difficult for you to talk about, and she thought Charlie's behavior outside of that was enough to get you out of his care. If their lawyer hadn't brought up Jacob Black, you probably would have been fine."

"I feel kind of guilty about what I did to Jacob," she admitted, rolling the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. "He really didn't want to do it once he found out what I wanted."

"Don't worry about him, Bella," Emmett replied over the sound of Mason's babbling. "He knew what Charlie was doing to you and he just let it happen for years. I'd tear him and his lousy father apart in an instant if it wouldn't violate our treaty with the pack."

Bella wrinkled her nose. She understood Emmett's feelings, but she didn't see the situation the same way. It wasn't Jacob's place to protect her from Charlie. He was her friend, not her protector. They'd grown up together, but she never really thought they were close. Besides, Billy was friends with Charlie. Jacob was practically just as much under Charlie's thumb as she was. And it was fine that the Cullens disagreed with her; she didn't mind. But she wasn't going to blame Jacob for something that was Charlie's fault. "I still feel bad," she said. "He was afraid he'd get in trouble with his dad or Charlie, but he helped me anyway. I think it was his way of admitting that he knew, without saying anything."

"Well, we're saying it, even if he won't," Rosalie said firmly. "Charlie is a son of a bitch, and he never deserved you. Neither does his sorry excuse for an ex-wife."

"Pizza's here," Alice said a moment before the doorbell rang. She slipped out of the room to get it.

Bella gave a faltering smile. She didn't know how she felt about Renee's sudden appearance today, and she had a feeling it would take a while for her to process. Growing up, Charlie had been the parent she could depend on—not for kindness or affection, but he was nothing if not set in his routine. Renee had been the parent she could love, despite the instability in her life. Renee had her own life, her own agenda, but she wasn't cruel. She didn't hit. Only once had she ever punished her daughter, and that had been for accusing Charlie of abuse.

But now? Now Bella wasn't sure what to think. The parent she had always thought of fondly had not only abandoned her, but attacked her in court. "I don't understand," she admitted quietly, letting Edward hold her as she accepted the warmth of his touch. "I just don't understand why she would do that. She doesn't even like Charlie."

Edward and Alice exchanged a look as the immaculately-dressed vampire came back into the room holding a pizza box. Bella watched the silent exchange without surprise. "You know," she said.

Edward exhaled slowly, his perfect face a troubled mask. He didn't want to tell her; that much was clear. But he could read her parents' thoughts, and Bella knew the moment she saw the insecurity in his deep yellow eyes that he knew something that he thought would hurt her.

"I need to know," she said, watching his eyes. "Please, Edward."

It was another test of the promise they'd made to each other—he to let her have more control over her life, and she to accept help when she needed it. Edward wanted to protect her from the world, but it just wasn't possible. She'd seen some of the darkest things this life had to offer, cruelty and deep shame, the dregs of humanity using other people with no conscience or remorse. Her father had hurt her, and her mother had not protected her. As much as Edward wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap and handle her like glass, he couldn't stop her past from showing up from time to time in this new life. It just wasn't reasonable. Bella watched him, tracing the well-loved arch of his brow and angle of his jaw with her eyes. Edward was not a reasonable man when it came to her, and she knew that. Accepted it, to some extent. But this was the agreement they'd made, the promise to work with each other instead of against.

His beautiful eyes softened as he gazed at her, though the set of his mouth still reminded her of pain. "I know," he said, his voice soft velvet. "You're in charge now, and you can have anything you want. I just…"

"I know." She straightened her spine, allowing her forehead to rest against his. "But I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

Edward's breath was cool on her cheek. "RVs are gas guzzlers," he said finally. "It gets expensive."

For a moment Bella couldn't understand what he was trying to say. When it clicked in her head, she wasn't really all that surprised, though she wished she was. "He bribed her."

"Essentially," Edward agreed reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Bella."

"How much?" She looked up at him, the need to know sudden and strong. "How much did he pay her?"

"The price of the flight, plus a grand."

And for some reason, some odd reason that Bella couldn't explain even to herself, that stung. Her mother had sold her out for a measly thousand dollars? It was like a slap in the face.

"I'm sorry, lovely," Edward whispered.

"What does she think?" Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears. "Does she really think I'm lying, or did she just want the money more than she cared what happened to me?"

"She hasn't made her mind up, and she doesn't plan to. She doesn't want to know." Edward's hand shifted, moving to hold the slight roundness of her belly instead of rubbing it with his thumb. "She wants to move on with her life and her new husband; she doesn't want to be dragged into the middle of anything."

Bella closed her eyes. "Yeah, that sounds like Renee." That much was undeniable. Renee cared about very little except herself and the here-and-now. She wouldn't appreciate being dragged into her past by an ex-husband and the daughter they shared.

"She loves you."

Bella flinched slightly at Jasper's unexpected voice. He was so quiet most of the time, and probably the family member she had spent the least amount of time with. But there was a softness to him, an understanding gleam in his eye whenever he looked at her. His ability to sense emotion no doubt contributed to that.

"In her own way," he went on, his eyes half-closed as if remembering the feel of Renee's emotions in the courtroom. "She's angry—exasperated at this interruption to her life. But her emotions are quite clear. She doesn't hate you, and she's afraid to find out the truth about Charlie. She'd just rather not know."

"That," Rosalie accused darkly, "is not love."

Jasper only shrugged. "I know what I feel."

"Did you…push Charlie or anyone else while we were there?" Bella asked hesitantly. "When he blew up? Or when the judge made her decision?"

Jasper shook his head. "I was ready to step in if I needed to, but Charlie dug his own grave and Judge Lucas was ready to throw the book at him even before the trial started."

Edward's grim expression lightened slightly. "She was," he agreed.

"Please eat before it gets cold, Bella." Esme handed her a plate. Bella blinked back tears that she was once again in control of, and she slid a pizza slice out of the box. She was still upset at the revelation of Renee's motives, but what could she do? Renee was Renee. Nothing would change her.

"Even though she kicked me out, I wanted to hug that judge," Edward said, his expression easing again. "She didn't trust Charlie from the start, but she wanted to be fair and give him a chance to change her mind. I was so worried all the way through, but she never wavered."

"I don't see how any sane person, especially a woman, could sit there and think that bastard was a capable father," Rose griped.

"No swearing in front of the little dude." Emmett wiggled his finger playfully at her. Rosalie only made a face back at him.

"The important thing is that we got exactly what we wanted." Carlisle's voice was calm and soothing, as always. "Bella is ours now permanently, and a restraining order has been issued. He won't be able to harm you ever again." He smiled gently at his newest daughter.

"Which Charlie has no intention of obeying," Edward growled, his arms tightening around her body. Bella couldn't blame him, and her own hand found its way to his arm, holding on firmly.

"What do you mean?" The tight knot of anxiety that had slowly begun to loosen in her gut was suddenly back. "Is he planning something?" Edward and Alice working together would be able to stop whatever it was, right? She was tired of living with the shadow of fear hanging over her. She hadn't realized it until she landed in the United States again, but her time with Alice at Ellison House had been blissfully free of that particular fear.

"Nothing concrete," Edward said, trying to soothe her even as he exchanged another look with Alice. "It's nothing to worry about right now."

"I don't want to have to worry about it  _ever_." Bella put her plate down and turned slightly on the couch, her hand resting at the crook of his elbow. "Edward, I need to know. I'm going to start showing soon, and I don't want him to know about her. What if he—"

"He won't, Bella," Alice said. She looked about as serious as Bella had ever seen her. "I have trouble seeing you most of the time, but Charlie's another story. He's usually pretty predictable. I'll watch him, I promise, and if he decides to try something, we'll be ready for him."

"We weren't ready in the grocery store," Rosalie said grimly. "When he found us with the baby? The man is dangerous, Alice. He gets these ideas out of nowhere, and he just acts on them. I wouldn't put it past him to do something like that again if he sees Bella around town, especially if she's showing. And we can't exactly hide something like that in a town this size. People are going to find out."

Bella ducked her head against Edward's arm. She didn't want the town knowing about this pregnancy, Charlie especially. She didn't really care about what people thought of her, but she didn't want them to think badly of the Cullens. She also had no wish to give Charlie more incentive to hurt her.

"We'll go away again, then," Edward said firmly. "Bella wants to have the baby at Ellison House anyway. We can go back there now; he'll never have to know anything."

"We can't do that, son," Carlisle said, though he sounded like he wished it were an option. "We still have a criminal trial to get through, remember, and even if we didn't, we can't just disappear after gaining custody of Isabella. Heidi will be making visits to check up on us. If we leave the country immediately, it will look extremely suspicious. England has a very friendly relationship with the United States; they'll send her back if the court changes its mind."

Bella could feel Edward's frustration, and she understood it. This wasn't fair. She'd thought she was free, that everything would be fine after this. Yes, the criminal trial was still to come, but it hadn't seemed like such a huge obstacle until this moment. "I don't want to see him," she whispered. "I don't want him to see me."

"We'll do our best, Bella," Carlisle said gently, "but we really do need to stay in Forks for the time being. Can you understand that?"

Yes, she understood, but that didn't mean she liked it.

"We can continue to homeschool you, if you don't want to go back to Forks High," Esme suggested. Bella knew she was trying to find some sort of comforting compromise, something they could do to ease the strain. "Gossip runs rampant in small towns, and I'm sure you'd rather avoid that."

"Please," Bella said quietly. "I'll be showing soon, and I don't want..."

"I know," Esme said, her voice soothing. "I know, baby, and you don't have to."

"You'll get a better education from us anyway," Rose said with a little eye-roll.

Bella tried a smile. "I believe you." While part of her was tired of being cooped up and didn't want to be housebound, another part of her felt a deep sense of relief at being spared the ordeal of going to school pregnant. The kids in Phoenix hadn't noticed anything, though they'd made jokes about the huge clothes she wore, far too big for her body and too warm for the desert climate. But she didn't trust that it would happen again, that she would be so lucky a second time. And if Charlie got wind that she was pregnant again... Bella shuddered. She was afraid of what her father might do. Especially if he knew that this one was Edward's.

"I won't let him touch either of you," Edward said softly. "You'll be fine."

She had to believe him. He wanted his child so badly, and Bella knew that he'd do whatever he could to make her safe.

"Please try not to worry," Carlisle said. "We'll do everything we can to keep you safe, sweetheart. I'll take you to the hospital in the middle of the night when no one except the emergency staff is there. You don't have to go to school. You can stay at home, and we'll always make sure someone is with you, just in case."

"I don't want to put you out like that..."

Rosalie shook her head. "Really, Bella? I thought we were past all this. You're ours, babe. It's not putting us out. You're family."

Yes, Bella knew that. But it would take a while to get used to.

"Carlisle," Edward warned, "playing nice with Heidi isn't worth Bella or the baby getting hurt."

"They won't, son," Carlisle said firmly. "We won't let them."

They worked out a schedule quickly, where Esme would stay with Bella during the school day, Carlisle too on his days off. Edward fought to stay out of school for the rest of the year, but they talked him firmly out of it. He'd already missed a lot of time, Carlisle argued, and people might get suspicious. Grudgingly, Edward agreed to evenings and weekends, and they all rotated who would stay back when the rest of the family went hunting. Bella didn't like all the trouble they were going to, but she managed to keep her mouth shut this time. Edward loved her, and he loved his child. If something happened to the baby, she didn't want to think about what he might do. Far better to let the family be overprotective if it meant Edward's peace of mind.

She ate three slices of pizza, which surprised her, and Esme boxed the rest up for leftovers.

"I can't believe you felt her," Edward murmured, rubbing her belly. "Have you again?"

Bella shook her head. "You will soon," she promised.

"I'm not a patient man," Edward said, a smile playing along the corners of his mouth.

"You waited a long time for me."

Edward's eyes nearly glowed. His mouth flicked into that crooked smile she loved, but before he could say anything, Rose cut in.

"But he made our lives miserable while he did it." Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "I've told you before, Bella, you're good for him. He doesn't deserve you, but nobody here is going to question it if he makes you happy.

Bella only leaned farther into Edward's arm. She accepted Rosalie for who she was, even if that meant dealing with the odd comment about Edward's attitude. It wasn't meant cruelly, so she could handle it.

"You're tired," Edward said softly, ignoring Rosalie except for an angry glance in her direction. "I can feel it."

Bella nodded. She was tired, yes, but she didn't know if her mind would shut off and let her sleep. "I'm...I don't really know what to do with myself now," she admitted.

"You'll have lessons from the family," Esme said. "You'll take care of yourself and your baby, let Carlisle examine you, and we'll prepare for the criminal trial. You'll be fine, Bella."

The criminal trial. Right. Bella gripped Edward's hand, holding it tightly. The sense of accomplishment from the day slipped away, and she hated the anxiety that replaced it. All too soon she would have to face Charlie again, and it wouldn't be just his rights as a parent on the line, it would be his freedom. His job. His entire reputation. Today hadn't been a particularly easy win, all things considered, but she had no illusions that Charlie would fight hard when there was more on the line.

"We'll be there for you," Edward murmured. "Every step of the way, Bella."

Yes, she knew that. But it didn't make it any easier when she thought about how she would next meet Charlie.


	42. Chapter 42

Two nights later, Carlisle walked them through the staff entrance of the hospital—Bella  _and_ Edward, because her lover refused to let her go through this alone. She was glad to have him, and not afraid to let anyone know it. While she knew she shouldn't be nervous about a checkup, she really didn't know what was going to happen. When she was pregnant with Mason, she hadn't had any prenatal care at all. Carlisle and Edward both insisted that this time would be different, and she couldn't deny them. They were right, after all, but it didn't make her any less nervous.

Carlisle waved casually at a security guard and the nurse at the nurse's station, but didn't stop to chat. He had already explained calmly that the best way to avoid attention was to act like nothing out of the ordinary was going on, and Bella believed him after nobody so much as raised an eyebrow at the three of them. Carlisle ushered them into an exam room, gave her an encouraging smile, and left to gather supplies.

"It will be fine."

Edward's voice was soft, and even though she was worried Bella had to hide a smile. She couldn't count the number of times he'd said that to her today—as if he were trying to reassure himself more than her.

"Come here." She held out her hand to him.

Edward's beautiful golden eyes softened, his hand immediately folding around hers, squeezing gently. The cold firmness of his touch soothed her more than any words possibly could, and she leaned into him when he slid his arm around her.

"I just want her to be okay," he said quietly, murmuring the words into her soft hair. "I want to know as much as possible, as soon as possible, even if the news isn't great. I want to be able to prepare."

Bella understood but, perhaps oddly, she couldn't feel as worried as Edward did. Something inside her felt...calm. She'd been removed from Charlie's care and given to the Cullens for good. She and Edward were learning how to be together, really be together, in a serious relationship where they both had to give and take. She drew her hand over the hesitant swell of her stomach, smiling slightly. Edward was a worrier. It was part of who he was, and she loved him for it. She loved him for his protective streak, for the careful, reverential way he touched her and spoke to her. It was like...like a dream, thinking that she would get to keep this forever. Giving him a daughter in return, assuming she was capable of doing so, didn't seem like such a terrible thing. He wanted it so much.

"Bella," Carlisle said softly as he returned to the room. He smiled with reassuring gentleness as he washed his hands in the sink. "There's no need to worry or be nervous. I know you had no prenatal care before, but we're going to change that this time around. It's important for every pregnant woman, but you especially."

"Because we don't know how human she is." Bella nodded. She knew.

Edward watched with anxious yellow eyes as she was weighed and measured, her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature taken, everything filed away in Carlisle's perfect vampire memory rather than physical records. There would be no paper trail at the hospital—either on computer or literal paper—to show that they had been here.

"You've gained a little weight and your blood pressure is better," Carlisle observed. "That makes me very happy, Bella."

Bella cracked a smile. "I don't think I had a choice. Everyone keeps trying to feed me all the time."

"We're all just concerned for you and our newest family member." Carlisle tapped her belly gently. "I need to take some blood to test, and then...are you ready to try a sonogram?"

Bella's hand tightened on Edward's. No prenatal care with her first child meant she'd never seen an ultrasound of Mason, but she knew what they looked like from TV. She doubted she'd be able to see much more than a grainy blob even with Carlisle's help pointing out legs and arms, but she was still nervous. Seeing it with her eyes would make this all much more real.

"Maybe, if the little one cooperates, we can see whether that's a daughter you're carrying like you hope," Carlisle added as he probed the inside of her elbow for a good vein. Swift and smooth the needle pierced her skin, dark blood flowing into the waiting receptacle. Edward jerked slightly beside her, but his hand remained firm in hers.

"I'm sorry," Bella said, glancing up at him. "Is it too much? You don't have to..."

"Shh." He grazed a finger over her velvet lip. "I could never hurt you, sweet girl. You know that."

"But it hurts _you_."

"Leaving you would hurt more," he said simply as Carlisle removed the needle and gave her gauze to press against the wound. She'd barely felt a thing.

Edward squeezed her hand a little tighter as she settled back on the examination table and lifted her shirt as per Carlisle's direction. The machine was a small portable unit, and she looked at the blank screen with an upwelling of anxiety. How much would they be able to see? Would they find out she was carrying a daughter as Edward hoped, or would he have to be content with a son?

The gel, when it hit her belly, wasn't as cold as a Cullen's touch, and Bella snickered inwardly at all the TV women who complained about it. Of course, they weren't used to sleeping with a vampire.

"Ready, Bella?" Carlisle held up the transducer, catching her eye and waiting for her okay before he began. It was one of the things she loved best about her new father figure—his patience and calm, his ability to sense when she needed a moment.

With a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. This was it.

And a handful of seconds later, as the instrument moved smoothly over the hard swell of her belly, Bella heard it—the strange underwater whooshing noise of her child's heart.

"Open your eyes, honey," Carlisle said, his gentle words laced with a small chuckle. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

Bella did.

The first noise she'd ever heard from Mason was a thin, angry wail when he was born. This...this was different. As she studied the grainy grey image on the screen, she let the odd sound wash over her. It was strangely...comforting.

"Well, we already knew there was a heartbeat." Carlisle's voice was soft. "Can you hear it now, Bella?"

"That's what I get to hear all the time." Edward squeezed her hand. Bella wasn't sure she could place the emotion in his voice, but his dark golden eyes ached with a yearning sort of love. "You can feel jealous if you want—that little heartbeat fluttering under yours, together they're my favorite sound in the world."

She squeezed his cold fingers in return, one side of her mouth almost managing to smile, but her gaze was drawn back to the screen. No, she wasn't jealous of Edward. Not for this, anyway. He could hear their child, but she could feel it, deep within her. The soft butterfly sensation of its movements never failed to stir emotions she wasn't sure she could explain. Something strange fluttered up under her ribcage, an anxious sort of feeling. And yet it wasn't...it wasn't all bad. Edward's child was inside her, and it was moving. It had a heartbeat she could hear.

Edward gripped tighter on her hand, and Bella watched the screen as Carlisle shifted the transducer on her abdomen.

"There's the head, here," the doctor said, pointing at a round, blobby splotch in the grey. "And the body, here. Unfortunately, this little one seems to have inherited dad's stubborn streak. It's hiding from us right now—I can't tell you whether it's a boy or a girl."

"She's a girl," Edward said softly. Bella tore her eyes away from the blurry grey image for a moment, studying her vampire. He looked...she didn't know how to describe it. His forehead was puckered in concentration, eyes squinted ever so slightly, mouth barely open. It looked like...not surprise but...awe? He couldn't take his eyes from the image of their child, the first glimpse they'd had. "Bella," he said, "look, Bella. That's your daughter."

Her daughter.

 _Her_ daughter.

Carlisle didn't quibble about the "daughter" remark despite the fact that they didn't really know for sure—not scientifically. Realistically, she knew it was a more or less fifty-fifty chance but...in her heart, she felt that Edward was right. Science couldn't confirm it, but this was a little girl.

 _Her_ little girl.

Bella wasn't ready to be a mom yet. She wasn't stupid. She had so much baggage, so much undealt-with trauma. Removing Charlie from her life didn't fix that. It couldn't. But the Cullens were here with her now. They loved her, and they would help her through the process of having and raising her new little one. Together, as a family, they could do this. They had Esme's love, Jasper's empathy. Alice's fun, Rose's realism, Emmett's big-brother antics. Carlisle with his quiet wisdom. She wasn't sure how it would work, how the dynamic of the family would shift as Mason grew and they added this new baby, but she knew they would be okay.

More than okay.

"Are you done watching?" Carlisle asked kindly, his hand still holding the instrument against her belly.

"I'll never be done." Edward's voice was the ghost of an awed whisper.

"You can have a video, I promise." Carlisle smiled in understanding. "But before we turn the machine off, I'd like to talk about the amnio again. You know I think we should do it."

Edward's face crinkled with displeasure. "There's risk of complications. I don't want to put my daughter through that. Or Bella."

"The risk is marginal—almost miniscule. And the benefits outweigh it, in both my professional and personal opinion. We could learn so much, Edward. Things we might need to know as the pregnancy progresses." He paused, and the two male vampires eyed each other over Bella's prone form. They'd known each other for so long, and they could communicate without words. Edward's hand didn't move in hers.

"I'm not asking for my own scientific curiosity, son," Carlisle said quietly. "This is about taking a small risk in order to hopefully prevent something worse from happening later on."

"Like what?"

"I have no idea. This fetus is unique, as far as I know. I don't know the first thing about its development, its genes—nothing. I think it's important to run all the tests we possibly can. Or do you think that not knowing is better than knowing?"

Edward pulled hard at his hair with his free hand, his beautiful face drawn up in an agonized scowl. "You can't say shit like that to me," he said. "I want to protect her—that's all. I don't want to take risks." He closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again he gazed at Bella. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

It was a beautiful moment. Bella wasn't sure she'd ever felt prouder of him, or more in love. Asking her to make a decision about something he felt so strongly was...nothing less than amazing. It was maybe, she felt, the strongest thing he'd ever done.

She reached up with her free hand and he gladly leaned down, letting her cup his cold cheek in her palm. She smoothed her thumb across that perfect, pale skin and smiled, hoping he could feel in her touch just how much this meant to her. "Thank you," she whispered.

He let out a deep sigh, smoke-sweet breath brushing her face and ruffling her hair. "You're in charge now; you know that. I have to trust you. I _do_ trust you." His love showed plainly in his yellow eyes, but she could also see fear there. He was afraid of the risk, however slight. Terrified of making a choice that might end in disaster. "I won't force you. Never again, Bella."

She believed him.

With a slow, calming breath, she nodded at Edward's father.

So Carlisle gathered the supplies he would need, hiding the ridiculously long needle from Bella's sight. He had no wish for her to faint or vomit. He cleaned an area of her belly well with antiseptic, instructing Edward to hold the sonogram machine's transducer against Bella's stomach so he could insert the needle away from the fetus. Bella winced at the injection of numbing agent, and after waiting a minute for it to take effect, Carlisle slowly inserted the needle. Bella's eyes were shut tightly, her body tense as her hands gripped the sides of the table. But when he asked her if she felt any pain, she shook her head.

After a quick draw of amniotic fluid, Carlisle withdrew the needle and had Edward place gauze on the puncture wound, holding it in place to stop any bleeding, though there shouldn't be much. He readied the sample for testing, then smiled at the teenager and teenager-like vampire before him. Bella belonged to them now and, whatever else happened, they'd get through it. He had no doubt about that.

"There," he said with a small smile. "All done. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Slowly Bella inched her eyes open, then shook her head with a sheepish little smile. "No," she said quietly. "It didn't hurt."

"I want you to watch for any cramping or bleeding, even minor spotting. Complications are rare, but there _is_ a slight risk." He smiled and sent them home with a promise to have results when he came home later that day.

* * *

Bella tried to hide a yawn as they drove home, but she felt Edward's eyes on her anyway.

"Tired?" He reached across the console with his right hand, which she gladly took.

"Kind of." She shrugged. "I didn't really sleep last night."

"Yeah, I know."

"I was nervous."

"I know that, too." His golden eyes flicked toward her before he turned his attention back to the road. "It's okay; you can sleep as much as you want now, whenever you want." They stopped at a red light, and he leaned over to brush a kiss against her temple. "No more nightmares?"

Bella sucked her lower lip into her mouth. She'd like to be able to agree with him, but the criminal trial was still looming and she didn't know how it would turn out. So much of their evidence at family court was inadmissible now. The belt Charlie had used to beat her was out because it was the Cullens, not law enforcement, who took it from her father's house. The photographs of her injuries were admissible, but it was her word against her father's as to what exactly caused them. Most of what they had was witness testimony—herself and Edward firsthand and the rest of the Cullens secondhand. She could prove that Frank Zinecki, her father's friend, was the father of her first child, but not that Charlie had known. No—for so much of this trial it was her word, the word of a runaway teenage mother, against his. Her success in this trial was by no means assured. And until she was free from Charlie completely, she couldn't promise that there would be no more nightmares.

Edward knew that; she knew he did. But the whole family had a kind of unspoken agreement that they would not talk about the criminal trial except during scheduled visits with their lawyer. Patrice O'Connell worked with family court only, and Bella had been assigned someone from the DA's office, since it would be the state and not Bella herself prosecuting Charlie. That was how she'd met Leia Hendricks, a young prosecutor with the state of Washington. She was loud and pushy, and Rose loathed her on sight. Bella was a little afraid of her, to be honest, but she had the skills that it would take to fight Charlie.

When they got home, it was time for Edward and the others to leave for school. He brought her close and kissed her softly, promising he'd be home around three that afternoon.

Before she left, Rosalie slapped a small stack of papers on the dining table.

"Here's your English lesson for the day," she said, throwing a knowing smile at her newest sister. "Don't worry about any other subjects—I have a feeling this will keep you fairly well occupied."

"You don't have to do it right away," Esme said softly. "You had an early morning. How did it go?"

Bella shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Still waiting for results on the amniocentesis." She _was_ a little sleepy, to be honest, and her mouth stumbled over the long, unfamiliar word. "I don't even really know what it's supposed to tell us, but Carlisle wanted to do it, so..."

"Baby, you can always ask Carlisle anything. He's happy to explain. In fact, you should have known fully what he was doing before you agreed to the procedure. Carlisle won't hurt you, but that's the sort of thing you can't be careless about."

Bella flushed. She knew Carlisle would explain things if she asked; she did. It was yet another coping mechanism she'd have to unlearn—asking Charlie questions often earned her a slap for her "smart mouth," or worse. She'd learned very quickly not to do it. Carlisle would never, never hurt her, but the instinct remained. "I knew what he was _doing_ ," she hedged, already fully aware that it wasn't enough.

"But you didn't know why. Bella, baby, standing up for yourself is very important. You've done it in some big ways—demanding the space from Edward you needed in Britain, having the courage to go through with these trials. Now, you need to learn to do it in smaller ways. No one in this family will hurt you, you know that, so we're a good, safe place to start."

Bella nodded. She knew she was safe here, with this family. Fear wasn't the problem. Complacency was. She trusted Carlisle to know what was best, medically, and felt no real need to question his judgment. It felt so nice to let go like that, to trust. To stop second-guessing every gesture, every word, as she did at school and with Charlie. To let her guard down. To _rest_. Yes, she understood Esme's point. This sort of rest, of blissful trust, wasn't something she could keep. It was a gift meant for children, and she was too old now to hold onto its sweetness. The fact that she hadn't had it as a child didn't matter—not really. She'd outgrown it, all the same. She needed to step up and be an adult now.

With that in mind, Bella settled herself at the dining table and pulled over the stack of papers from Rose.

"Are you sure you want to do that now?" Esme questioned. "You can rest. You _should_ rest, probably. I know you didn't sleep well last night."

Bella shrugged. She was used to feeling bone-weary. One night of poor sleep wasn't going to kill her. "I'll be okay."

"Let me get you some breakfast, at least."

Bella bit her lip and looked up at the gentle mother-figure she'd taken fully into her heart. "I don't want to make work for you."

"Shh." Esme stepped close and kissed the top of her head. "I thought we were over this? You're part of this family, not a burden. If we offer, it means we really want to help."

"Okay." Bella's voice was small. "I just...it's a lot..."

"I know. Believe me, I know. You'll get there." Esme squeezed her shoulder before moving into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

When she was alone, Bella looked again at the packet of papers. The first three were poems that looked like they'd been photocopied out of books. The fourth was a piece of white paper on which Rosalie had scrawled the word WRITE with a fat-tipped marker. Below that were a few sheets of looseleaf. She fetched a pen from her bedroom before settling in to read the poems. Esme slid a mug of Earl Grey and a plate with a black pudding and some toast in front of her, then murmured something about being out back in the garden if she was needed.

The first poem told Bella exactly what Rosalie was trying to do.

Why My Mother Made Me  
by Sharon Olds

Maybe I am what she always wanted,  
my father as a woman,  
maybe I am what she wanted to be  
when she first saw him, tall and smart,  
standing there in the college yard with the  
hard male light of 1937  
shining on his slicked hair. She wanted that  
power. She wanted that size. She pulled and  
pulled through him as if he were silky  
bourbon taffy, she pulled and pulled and  
pulled through his body till she drew me out,  
sticky and gleaming, her life after her life.  
Maybe I am the way I am  
because she wanted exactly that,  
wanted there to be a woman  
a lot like her, but who would not hold back, so she  
pressed herself, hard, against him,  
pressed and pressed the clear soft  
ball of herself like a stick of beaten cream  
against his stained sour steel grater  
until I came out the other side of his body,  
a tall woman, stained, sour, sharp,  
but with that milk at the center of my nature.  
I lie here now as I once lay  
in the crook of her arm, her creature,  
and I feel her looking down into me the way  
the maker of a sword gazes at his face  
in the steel of the blade.

Orphans  
by Gloria Vando

When my father died, leaving me  
distraught for never having known  
him as father, as friend,  
for never having known myself

as child of one whose eyes and mouth  
and temperament were mine, my mother  
cautioned me, told me not to mourn  
what I perceived as loss: you and I

are daughters of the wind, she said,  
you and I are fathers of our souls,  
sprouting intact like seedlings  
from two wind-borne acorns.

We thrive on luck, she said,  
there is no father's love in that.

First Memory  
by Louise Gluck

Long ago, I was wounded. I lived  
to revenge myself  
against my father, not  
for what he was—  
for what I was: from the beginning of time,  
in childhood, I thought  
that pain meant  
I was not loved.  
It meant I loved.

Snow  
by Louise Gluck

Late December: my father and I  
are going to New York, to the circus.  
He holds me  
on his shoulders in the bitter wind:  
scraps of white paper  
blow over the railroad ties.

My father liked  
to stand like this, to hold me  
so he couldn't see me.  
I remember  
staring straight ahead  
into the world my father saw;  
I was learning  
to absorb its emptiness,  
the heavy snow  
not falling, whirling around us.

Rosalie's beautiful scrawl stared up at her. WRITE.

Bella had refused therapy the handful of times her new family offered or Heidi suggested it. She didn't want to talk to some stranger, particularly since there were so many secrets she had to keep. No one could know about the true nature of the Cullens, and they were trying to keep her pregnancy secret as well. The fact that she'd been in their care for the months the state thought she was a runaway. There was just too much, and she didn't trust herself not to slip if someone started digging. Plus, what was the point of therapy if she had to keep secrets? So Rosalie, being Rosalie, decided to push her a little bit.

"Poetry as self-help?"she murmured, taking a sip of cooling tea. Her daughter kicked. "Really?" If she knew Rose, the writing exercise was only a secondary consideration. Really, Rosalie wanted her to think. To confront whatever she was feeling about her parents rather than hiding from it or pushing it aside. It was sweet that Rose was worried, but Bella honestly wasn't sure if she was ready to sit down and wrestle with all of that. She'd only been removed from Charlie's care two days ago, and she was still trying to settle into this new reality where he not only could not hurt her, he wasn't legally allowed anywhere near her. She didn't quite trust that he would give up just like that and neither did Edward, but the state police were making rounds just as the judge promised, and she didn't set foot outside the house without at least one Cullen beside her.

And Renee?

Bella stared at the pages of poetry scattered across the table. In her mind's eye, she watched Renee scrawl her name impatiently across the legal forms that severed them from each other permanently. At the time, she'd been too drained, both physically and emotionally, to really process how she felt. Now, looking back, she was better able to understand why that moment felt so anticlimactic in regard to Renee. Her mother's willingness to sign her over to the state, to give her away, hadn't hurt as much as she thought it might, because really, she'd abandoned her long before that. Every time she put her on a plane to Charlie even though she _knew_ Bella desperately did not want to go. When she accused her of lying the one time Bella tried to tell her what Charlie did. When she didn't see— _refused_ to see—that her teenage daughter was pregnant. All of it—it was all abandonment in some form. Her entire childhood had been a struggle, Renee pulling away as her daughter yearned to get closer, one retreating, the other struggling along in her wake. It hadn't felt like that at a time—not in any way she could articulate. But now?

It wasn't until she saw a drop of moisture fall to the page in front of her, smudging the ink, that Bella realized she was crying. She blinked, and another tear freed itself. Her chest felt tight, her throat constricted. She inhaled and held her breath hard, denying not the emotion, but its outward manifestation. She didn't cry. She didn't _like_ to cry. What good did it do?

"Bella."

Esme's soft voice was like a physical caress. She stepped close behind Bella and her arms slowly slid around her tense body. Bella blinked against the tears and turned her head to the side, burying her face against Esme's sleeve. It felt cold from the chilly air outside.

This, Bella thought, reaching up with one hand to hold Esme to her. This was what a real mother did. This was what she'd been denied, growing up, and she craved it now even though she wasn't a little child anymore.

"Ohhh..." Esme held on tighter. She didn't hush the girl in her arms. She didn't tell her there was nothing to cry about. "I'm here," was all she said. "I'm here. You're not alone."

"Why?" Bella whispered into her sleeve. "Why did she do it?"

The question was so vague that Esme didn't have an answer. She simply held her newest daughter through whatever it was that was hurting her. The "she" was either Renee or Rosalie, Esme was fairly sure. "I'm here," she said again. "I'm here."

Bella struggled for long minutes, her body aching to cry, to rid itself of the tears she repressed. Esme wanted to urge her to let it out, but she wasn't sure pushing was a good idea. Bella had grown so much during her time in Britain but she was still Bella, and Bella did not like to let go. She held her emotions tightly in check until she couldn't anymore. It was something they'd have to work on, but Esme really didn't know if now was an appropriate time to push. She'd been through so much in the past few days.

"Why did she do it?" Bella asked once more. Her voice was a strangled whisper as she fought her tears. "Why did she even have me if she didn't want to be a mom? Or was it me? She didn't want to be _my_ mom? What did I do wrong?"

That was it.

Esme shifted her arms and turned the chair around so she and Bella were face to face. She cupped her warm cheeks in her hands and tilted her face up gently, staring into wet brown eyes. "You did _nothing_ wrong." She spoke as firmly as she dared. "You couldn't have done anything to change how Renee treated you, nor should you have had to. It's not a child's place to strive to be worthy of her parents' love. It's the parents' duty to give it, no matter what."

"But—"

"No buts." Esme pulled out another chair and sat so she wasn't looking down at Bella anymore. "Baby, I don't know why Renee chose to have you. It could be that you were a surprise she wasn't expecting, or she thought a baby could fix the problems with her marriage. Unfortunately, a lot of women seem to think that, and it tends to end badly for all involved. Maybe she thought becoming a mother was something she was just supposed to do. Maybe your father talked her into it. Maybe she was lonely and wanted something to love. There are so many possible reasons, and I'm not sure we'll ever know for sure."

"She didn't love me," Bella whispered. She sniffled. Esme handed her a napkin in lieu of a tissue. "I thought she did. I assumed she did. But now I don't think so."

"Love is a complicated emotion." Esme squeezed Bella's knee. "I don't know if even Jasper can fully explain it. Remember what he said to you after the trial?"

"He said Renee loved me. Rosalie didn't believe him."

"Rose sometimes sees black and white where others find nuances of grey. I can't say whether Renee loves you or not. I don't know, and it's not my place to guess. I know you were starved for affection as a child, and I'm sorrier than I can express for that. You can have as much of it as you want now, I promise you."

"If she loved me, why did she give me away?"

"Well..."Esme hesitated, searching for the gentlest words. "You gave Mason away."

Bella's tense body grew still as stone. She huddled in her chair, hands on her legs, fingers digging into the denim of her jeans. "I don't love him." Her throat constricted as she swallowed. "But I wanted him to have a better life. He deserves love, and I can't give it."

"And maybe, maybe Renee feels something similar. Maybe she knows, deep down, that you deserve more than she's capable of giving. Maybe she feels that we can give you what she can't." She reached out and brushed a hand across Bella's tight fingers. "That's not the absence of love, baby. It's the presence of mercy."

A hiccuped sob left Bella's throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Despite her earlier reservations, Esme pushed her gently. "Let go," she urged. "Come here. Let go. You're safe. I won't let you fall apart."

To her surprise, Bella did. She let Esme hold her, and she cried. Her tears were angry, frustrated. They showed plainly the rift inside this girl, the hopelessness she felt at ever understanding why her parents had treated her so callously. She had a wealth of love now, from a family that adored her, but Esme knew that in itself could not fix wounds accumulated over a lifetime.

"I know you don't feel like you love Mason, but you did what you thought was best for him. You gave him a better chance at a happy life. Bella, what you have to understand is that you're an incredibly selfless person, and you're not prideful at all. Other people aren't like that. They don't think the way you do. Admitting that her marriage was a failure was probably incredibly difficult for Renee—wounding to her pride. She may well have felt that she couldn't admit failure with you, too, even when she saw the signs that your father was hurting you, or that you were pregnant. Failure is so frightening, especially when the stakes are your legacy."

Bella hugged her tighter. "But it's not fair."

"No, it certainly wasn't fair to you. None of it. And I don't want you to think I'm excusing her. I just know you want answers, sweetheart. I can't give them to you, not really, but I can offer speculation."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Bella. Don't forget that."

"How could I?" There was a hesitant sort of smile in her voice. "You show me all the time."

"You're dear to us, and not just because you're dear to Edward. Or because of this little one." Esme drew away and rubbed Bella's stomach lightly.

"I'm going to make sure she gets held." Bella sounded firm; decided. "All the time. And cuddled. I want her to know—"

"Want her to know what, Bella?" Esme urged when she broke off.

Bella sniffled into her napkin and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "That I love her," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her body and hugging herself tightly. "So much."

* * *

After Bella calmed down, Esme convinced her that she didn't have to actually write an essay about the poems Rose provided. They'd done their job without it; there was no sense in beleaguering the point. Instead, they baked banana bread together, then curled up on the couch to watch movies. Bella ate some of the sweet bread still warm from the oven and fell asleep halfway through the second movie, her head resting on Esme's shoulder.

When the rest of the Cullen "kids" came home, that's how they found them—Bella deeply asleep, curled against Esme's side, their mother serene. "She had a rough morning," she murmured, too low to disturb Bella's sleep.

Edward's eyes darkened. "Charlie—"

"No, he hasn't been around. She's just doing some soul-searching. It's good for her, though I'm sure it isn't pleasant." She glanced at Rosalie, who said nothing.

"She's okay?" Edward brushed his fingers over her warm cheek.

"Now, yes."

"Did she write?" Rose inquired.

"No. But she talked. That's good enough."

Edward winced; Esme could only assume he was reading her thoughts as she recalled the morning's difficult conversation. "I should have been here."

"You can't be here all the time," Esme reasoned. "We muddled through. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you, though. Do you want to wake her? If she sleeps too much now, she'll never get to sleep tonight."

Edward slid his arms around Bella as Esme relinquished her hold. He raised her slowly, his touch infinitely gentle. A soft sigh escaped her, and she snuggled into his shoulder. "Edward..."

"Hi." His smile lit his face. "Are you actually awake, or are you talking in your sleep?"

"Awake, I think." She slipped her arms around him. "Missed you."

"I missed you, too, sweet girl."

"Have you heard anything from Carlisle yet?"

"Not yet." Edward pressed his lips against her hair. "Are you feeling okay? None of the warning signs Carlisle said to watch for?"

"I'm fine," she said with a little yawn. "Just sleepy."

"How about we go upstairs for a while, and you can read while I finish my homework?"

"It takes you less than five minutes to do your homework," she grumbled, but she didn't protest as he bore her upstairs.

"Is she really okay, Esme?" Alice's delicate eyebrows drew together in a pout of worry.

Esme glanced at Jasper, who smiled. "She's fine. Nervous and anxious, but she trusts us. I don't blame her for feeling overwhelmed."

"What's she nervous about?" Emmett skidded down the stairs with Mason in his arms; Rose scowled at him. "The trial? Her new kid? Charlie? That Frank fucker?"

"All of the above, and probably more." Esme stood. She wanted to make something special for Bella's dinner tonight, and it needed time to slow-cook.

"What about—"

The sound of a car on the driveway cut Emmett off.

"It's that new lawyer." Alice wrinkled her nose. "I don't like—oh."

"Oh? What's _oh_?" Rose demanded as the sound of the car drew closer. A muffled laugh from Bella upstairs filtered to her ears. "Alice?"

"The DA's office doesn't think they have enough evidence to win the case," Alice whispered. "She's come to tell us they're not going to try Charlie."

* * *

_A/N: Mwah! Loves you, duckies!_


	43. Chapter 43

"Why?"

Bella's thin face was pinched and white, her lips pressed tightly together. Her chest heaved once—one physical flash of the turmoil within—before she shut it ruthlessly down. She was not calm, though force of habit made her deny her bodily reactions, struggling to keep the rigid control she used as a shield. Edward stood behind her, arms locked around her waist. His grim expression displayed his anger, but not what he intended to do about it.

"I did everything I was supposed to do. You told me to be strong, that the law would help me." She scrubbed at her cheeks, though they were dry. Her words faded into a despaired whisper. "I did what I was supposed to do."

"I know you did." Carlisle scanned the room with bright, solemn eyes. The gathered family waited in silent support for whatever might come next. "You've been courageous beyond anything the state has a right to expect of you."

"Then why?"

"They just don't think they have enough evidence, Bella, and the state doesn't try cases it doesn't think it can win." He ticked the reasons off on his fingers. "We had the belt from Charlie's garage, but even though we did our best to document when and where we got it, they're sure it would be inadmissible in court. Our fear at the time was that Charlie would successfully hide the evidence if we waited for police, particularly since there was no real cause for a search warrant. In that respect I failed you, and I apologize."

Rain beat heavy against the house, jagged bursts blown sideways by the wind. Carlisle saw his human daughter shiver in her thin, long-sleeved t-shirt. He understood Edward's desire to care for her, to ply her with blankets and food, though he had much better restraint than his son. She was such a delicate creature—a young woman who, being human, had needs and limits that the rest of his family left behind long ago. Rosalie's worry about just how much mental and emotional strain Bella could take was fast becoming his own worry as well. She was strong, but everybody had their limits and her habit of repression didn't help.

"I don't blame you," Bella whispered. Her hands fit over Edward's at her abdomen, palms to knuckles. "You were just looking out for me, like you always have."

Carlisle more or less expected that answer. "Nonetheless," he said, "I apologize. That was the one solid piece of physical evidence we had."

"What about the pictures you took?"

"They're admissible, but the problem is that we can't prove who put those marks on you. You say it was your father. Charlie says otherwise."

"And I'm a teenage runaway fuckup. I get it. Nobody will take my word over his." She blinked hard several times and dragged a deep, shaky breath into her chest. "At least they believe it happened, even if they don't believe Charlie did it. That's something, I guess."

"It's not about belief," Carlisle started at the same time Edward hissed, "You're not a fuckup!" His hands tightened on her body, as if he could will the truth into her with the force of his grip.

"I truly think Ms. Hendricks believes you, Bella. Not just about what happened, but about Charlie as well. It's not that she doesn't have faith in you, but the standard of criminal justice is to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. The DA's office doesn't believe it can do that with the evidence at hand. That's all it means."

The evening silence settled around them again. Carlisle could hear Bella's strained breaths as she struggled to keep outwardly calm. Her heart pounded harder and faster than normal, and he listened to the echoing thrum of the tiny heart below it. Getting worked up wasn't good for either of them, but what could he do? This wasn't a problem they could easily fix.

"But Ch-Charlie won't go to jail, then. He'll be here."

"You have an order of protection," Carlisle reminded her, though he knew perfectly well that she didn't trust that piece of paper to do anything but make Charlie mad.

A slow blink. She turned her head sideways, rested her mouth against Edward's sleeve as he held her. "He scares me," she whispered into the fabric.

A long, speaking glance passed between Edward and Rosalie. Carlisle had no problem interpreting it. He raised an eyebrow slightly at Esme, whose tiny nod confirmed that she, too, understood. The question was, should they, as heads of the family, allow their son and daughter to do what he _knew_ they planned to do? Both Edward and Rosalie yearned for Charlie's death. He didn't need to read minds to know that.

"You have every right to be scared," he said finally. "He's a dangerous man, and he has hurt and threatened you countless times. Now you're standing up to him, and I'm sure he's very angry. I won't lie to you about that. But we'll do everything in our power to keep you safe—you're a member of this family now, and carrying another. And if Charlie violates the order, he _will_ go to jail."

"The only way you can promise he won't hurt her is if she's in this house at all times, and never left alone. That's not any sort of life," Rosalie argued. To her, the solution was very simple. Charlie would stand no chance. They could make his death look like any number of accidents...or make sure he was never found at all.

"If he won't be tried, do I have to stay here?" Bella's voice was small. "In Forks? It's hard to sleep, knowing he's out there."

Carlisle considered. She asked for so little, and her request was utterly reasonable. They were here in Washington to fulfill their legal obligations. Barring that, what kept them? "Where do you want to go?"

Bella swallowed hard. He watched her throat move, heard the ever so slight disruption of her pulse as her lungs quivered. "Back to Ellison House. I feel safe there."

Edward's dark yellow eyes were sharp as he glared at his father, daring him to deny Bella her wish. Carlisle very much wanted it to be that easy...but it wasn't. He considered the scared girl in Edward's arms. "Bella, I don't like how fast your heart's beating. Will you sit down? Please? We can discuss returning to Britain, I promise."

She obeyed, the entire family moving with her to the living room, where Edward drew her down to sit with him on one of Esme's flawless white couches. Carlisle wished Alice's visions were more certain where Bella was concerned; they could definitely use one now.

"Bella..."

At his tone of voice, the faint, hopeful light in her eyes died. Carlisle felt immensely guilty, but he couldn't lie to the child; he just couldn't. She deserved the full truth, so she could make an informed decision. This was her life, after all.

Edward pressed a gentle kiss against her temple, and Bella nestled into the crook of his arm. One of her hands rested on the hesitant swell of her abdomen, thumb stroking slowly. Carlisle wondered if she even noticed what she was doing.

"It's true that we have no more looming trials," he began, "since we won in family court and the DA has declined to prosecute. It's also true that most of us still believe Charlie is a threat, and Bella will have to be watched for as long as we stay in Forks."

Slow nods from several family members.

"There are a few other things to consider, however." He tented his fingers and dropped his head slightly, staring at his own perfect, pale hands. He'd saved a great many lives with those hands—hands that were made to kill rather than heal. He'd resisted the nature of this life, this body, and wrought something, he hoped, greater than the sum of its parts. Better than what he'd come from. Bella had done the same, he truly believed. With a background of horrific abuse from one parent and dismal neglect from the other, by all rights she should be a hardened, closed-off person. Drugs, crime, delinquency—these things often followed the sort of childhood she'd endured. But Bella, she defied the odds. She was scared, yes, and wary of people. But behind that, she had a warm, tender, loving nature. She'd showed fierce loyalty to his family from the start, and she bore no ill-will toward the baby boy she had unwillingly borne, though she could not be his mother. Carlisle was beyond proud of her. If she decided this was it, she didn't want to fight anymore, he wouldn't make her. They could disappear if they had to, though there were certainly consequences to that choice.

"Carlisle, don't make her do this." Edward's voice rumbled out of him, low and angry. "Don't make her stay."

"All I'm asking is that you listen. Nothing more."

"I can do that," Bella whispered. She rested her near hand on Edward's leg, and he quieted.

"If you're serious about going back to the UK, we can ask Heidi about the possibility. You're our foster child only, remember—not adopted. Technically, you still belong to the state of Washington, and it's up to them what you do and where you go."

"No way would Heidi think it's in Bella's best interest to stay in town," Emmett said, swaying on his feet as a sleepy Mason drifted in his arms.

"But England is a very long way away. It's not only another state, it's another country. That's far, far out of the state of Washington's jurisdiction. While Heidi might support a move to another town, I truly believe she won't agree to going so far."

"Another town isn't good enough." Alice frowned. "He'll hear where we've gone from gossip, or use whatever police methods he has to find us. Anywhere in the state is really just a car ride away."

Bella shivered under Edward's arm.

"Are you cold?" He nuzzled her hair gently. "Do you want a blanket?"

She shook her head and ducked closer, leaning into his bulk.

"We can talk to Heidi. I'm more than happy to. But I want you to be prepared if the answer isn't the one you want." Carlisle hated the expression of defeat on Bella's unhappy face. "And there's another consideration, too." He paused. "Mason's biological father."

Bella froze under Edward's arm. Her face went white, her eyes dark as a hungry vampire's.

"Sweetheart, you've been incredibly strong. No one will blame you if you feel that enough is enough. But if you want to prosecute, now is the time. You know who he is. Mason himself is irrefutable evidence. Even if he tries to claim that the act was consensual, you were underage at the time. This is as close to a sure guilty verdict as you'll ever get."

Bella exhaled slowly. Her eyes were dull, almost blank. A fine tremble had started in her limbs; he couldn't tell the cause. She could be exhausted, or emotionally drained, or her body could need food. This baby definitely took a toll on her physically, and if she wasn't sleeping well due to stress, that wasn't good. "I'm so tired," she said finally. "I don't want to. I really don't. But I can't let him stay free."

"Maybe..." Jasper rubbed at his chin slowly as he spoke up for the first time. "Maybe they could get him to rat Charlie out. If someone on the investigative team is competent, that is. He knows you told Charlie, even though your father denies knowing anything about it. If both of you point the finger, Charlie could be on the hook for that. It won't get him very long behind bars, but it would at least take away his badge."

"But how do they get him to talk?" The light shaking of Bella's limbs continued. Carlisle wondered why Edward didn't speak up. Surely he could feel it? "He's Charlie's friend."

"They'd have to offer him something in return. A reduced sentence, most likely, or a lesser charge."

Bella didn't look terribly pleased with that, but she kept silent. A long breath trickled from her lungs. The rain drummed. Mason snored lightly, damply, on Emmett's shoulder.

"You don't have to decide anything tonight." Carlisle tried to reassure her, but he knew the attempt was pointless. She was a worrier. She was a planner. She did not like her future hanging in the air, and he couldn't blame her.

"No," she said with a quick shake of her head. "No, you're right. I want to leave Forks, but I can't. Not yet." She tugged at the front of Edward's shirt and caught his eyes. "Please...don't kill him. Either of them. Please?" She glanced at Rosalie. "Any of you. I don't want to be the cause of more blood on your hands."

"We'd do it with glee, little mouse." Emmett grinned, swaying with his sleeping son on his shoulder. "We'd _love_ it."

"I know, but...don't? For me. Please."

* * *

Carlisle called Heidi that night, Esme next to him, listening in. He confirmed that Bella was willing to name the police officer who had raped her, and asked about hypothetically moving the family. She confirmed what he'd suspected—leaving Forks wouldn't be a problem, but leaving the state required an exceptionally good reason and leaving the country was impossible. Unless they transported her in secret, as Edward had when he kidnapped her in the first place, Bella would not give birth at Ellison House as she wished. He hoped it wasn't too great a disappointment, but there was really nothing legally they could do. It was almost February. Bella would turn eighteen in September, and then they could go wherever she desired. For the intervening eight months, they were effectively stuck.

Heidi promised to send over a trusted member of the state police in the morning, along with Leia Hendricks if she could be spared. Bella had to make an official statement, they'd obtain DNA samples from all involved—by court order if Mason's biological father did not voluntarily comply—and then wait for the results. In the meantime, Bella wasn't to leave the house without supervision, not that she ever really left the house anyway. Everyone agreed to keep an eye out for Charlie, too. Knowing where both parties were at all times made guarding their vulnerable family member much easier.

"Carlisle, I'm afraid this may be too much for her." Esme's worried honeydrop eyes flicked toward the stairs, then back to him. Bella was in her room with Edward at the moment. She'd eaten a little after the family discussion and looked better afterward, and now Edward was doing his homework—or pretending to—while Bella read. The soft notes of soothing instrumental music drifted down the stairs.

"I am, too," he admitted. "But I won't tell her she shouldn't take on that man. If she's going to be a vampire someday, I don't want her eternal life clogged with regret."

"It's just...a baby, a trial, Charlie still free—it's a lot. She's only just begun to confront her conflicted feelings about Renee and how her mother essentially abandoned her by signing those papers, even though it was what Bella wanted."

"To be honest, I rather wish she hadn't forbidden Charlie's death." Carlisle could feel his wife's astonishment, and he understood. He valued life highly, and he was not a violent man. Charlie, however... "It would be so, so easy. No one would ever know, and it would be one less strain on her."

"But she did forbid it. She asked us not to kill him."

"I won't." Though if he just so happened to end up on Carlisle's operating table, all bets were off.

"They both deserve to be pulled to pieces," Rosalie growled from the kitchen, where she was feeding Mason. "Conscious, so they can feel every single wrench. It's a pity drawing and quartering has gone out of style."

"But that's not what Bella wants." Carlisle's heart hurt. He felt...heavy. Tired, even. This was worry—this was love. His fragile human daughter and the grandchild she carried within her...they were just so vulnerable. And his family would not survive losing them, either of them, now.

"It's not fair that she can't have what she wants," Rose muttered. She appeared in the doorway, Mason balanced on her hip as he gummed an arrowroot cookie. "She doesn't want to be here, and I don't blame her. Can't we do something?"

"Such as?" Carlisle watched his eldest daughter hold the baby boy Bella had given her—the thing she'd always wanted and never believed she could have. Rosalie was hard, and wary. She didn't let people in; she guarded herself as fiercely as she guarded the child entrusted to her care. That she felt so strongly for the new sister who had stumbled into their lives might seem outwardly strange, but Carlisle understood. Bella had worked her way into Rose's heart without even trying, as she had with them all. "If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them. We're not used to playing by human rules, not really, and I understand how frustrating it is now that we're forced to. But Bella is not only human, she's a legal minor. As such, she hasn't the freedom the rest of us do. If we disappear with her, people _will_ look for her. They'll hunt us down as kidnappers, and the Volturi will hear of it. I don't need to tell you why we don't want them involved." He glanced significantly at the baby tucked against Rose's hip.

His daughter's grip on her son tightened, and the furious scowl that bled across her lovely face told Carlisle he'd made his point. They were stuck, effectively trapped with no good choices. Bella could not leave the state of Washington until she turned eighteen, and her birthday was eight long months away. They could move to another town in-state, but Bella would still be a prisoner in the house. They just couldn't get far enough from Charlie to make her safe, now that he wasn't going to trial.

"She's going to really start showing soon. Heidi won't like that. What are you going to tell her? The truth? That Bella's pregnant with her foster brother's child?"

Carlisle exchanged a glance with Esme. "That's Bella's decision to make," Esme said.

"Though it would be better for all involved if we could get Zinecki behind bars first," Carlisle added. "If Bella agrees, we'll do our best to hide her pregnancy for as long as we can."

"And when you can't anymore?" Rose's free hand whipped out, catching the gummy cookie as Mason dropped it. "What then?"

Yes, Carlisle agreed, that was the question. What then?

* * *

"I think she likes having you near." Bella leaned back against Edward's bare chest, the soft waterfall sound of the jetted tub a pleasant white noise in her ears. His skin felt warm against hers in the hot, circulating water, and she smiled as his hands, gentle as always, stroked light patterns along her flesh.

"Why do you think that?" His lips traced the line of her damp shoulder, moving slowly, tantalizingly, toward her ear.

"She moves a lot more. I think she's happy." She tilted her head, a soft breath trickling from her lips as his mouth pressed soft, slow kisses up the side of her throat. "You can't hear my mind. Can—can you hear hers?"

He shook his head, lips tickling the tender skin just below her ear. "No. Or not yet. I want to."

"Can you hear Mason?" She tipped her head back, peering up at him. His nose brushed hers, and he placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. "What do babies sound like?"

"Mmm...it's hard to explain." His arms slid more firmly around her. "They don't think in words. It's all very much emotion, which makes Jasper better able to understand them. To me, they're very...chaotic."

"Really? I'd have thought they'd be simple."

"They are, and they aren't. Their wants are simple—food, affection, comfort, sleep. But the world is so new, so unfamiliar to them. They have no frame of reference for anything."

"If you can hear Mason, that means you'll be able to hear her, right? Even though you can't hear me?"

"I hope so. I really, really hope so."

As if to corroborate Bella's words, the baby moved inside her. Edward's palms stretched over her abdomen and he smiled broadly.

"So amazing," he murmured. "Every time."

Bella felt a thrill of happiness flutter through her. Today had not been pleasant, but she tried to ignore the anxiety that wanted to hover in her bones. Edward was here with her now, his arms firm around her. No matter what happened in the future, here, in this moment, she was safe and content. She had the love of her vampire, and she trusted him when he said he'd never let anything harm her or the child she carried. Trust didn't come easy to her, but she and Edward had been through so much already. Their struggles told her that she had nothing to fear from the man who held her.

His yellow eyes had glowed gold when she asked him if he would bathe with her, Bella remembered all too well the first time they'd been in this tub together, her panic when she woke and discovered herself naked, pressed against a male body. It was the first real mistake he'd made, the first time she'd felt actual fear around him. Neither of them overlooked the significance when she asked him to join her now.

"Bella?" His voice buzzed through her when he spoke. "Can I ask you about tonight?"

She sighed. "As long as you don't let go."

"Never." He twined his legs with hers in the rippling water. "I just want to make sure you're really okay. What you just decided, everything you heard from Carlisle—Bella, it's a lot. I worry about you. You don't need this stress right now."

She shifted in his arms, turning to face him, pressing her chest to his as his arms wound around her, pulling her flush against him. "I know you worry." She hated making him worry—hated feeling like a burden.

"Let me kill him, Bella. Please?" Edward's eyes darkened as he stared at her. "You don't deserve to live with this sort of fear. We thought he'd be going to jail soon, but he's not. If we can't take you away, let me kill him."

His voice was low and deep—intense. Bella shivered at the desire in his dark yellow eyes, the yearning to do this task. To murder her father.

"No one will know. I can make it so no one will suspect a thing." He spoke the cajoling words with slow intent, honey-sweet, a seduction of something other than her body. "I won't even touch him if you don't want me to. It can be...an accident. The sort of thing that happens every day."

He could do it, too. Bella knew he could. A hidden poison, or some sort of death trap set up where he was sure to drive by. A fire in his house. A malfunctioning sidearm. There were any number of possibilities; he didn't need his vampire strength to end Charlie. And part of her, a small, dark part that made her feel sick, wanted to tell him yes. She'd hurt Charlie's pride by taking both Mason and herself away from him, and she knew he was very, very angry. He didn't know how to forgive, or forget, or move on. If she was incapable of putting him behind bars, he was going to hurt her; it was only a matter of time. One wrong move, one moment when Edward or Esme was distracted... She hugged herself closer, soothed by the answering squeeze of Edward's arms.

"Let me protect you. Please, Bella. If we can't keep him in jail, let me do this. I can't lose you—either of you."

She squeezed her eyes tight, pressing her cheek to his. That was kind of a low blow, bringing their daughter into this...but on the other hand, how could he not? She was carrying her as she grew; they couldn't be separated. Whatever Charlie did to her, he did to her daughter, too. And it would feel so wonderful, so _incredibly_ wonderful, not to feel that pervasive fear Charlie's presence shot through her. Waiting and wondering when he would strike was slowly driving her insane. She had difficulty sleeping and she doubted the pervasive low-level nausea that wouldn't go away was all from the pregnancy. Her body was telling her she was stressed and afraid, and she _knew_ it was taking a toll on her health.

But Edward.

Edward was hers to protect, just as she was his. And as such, she couldn't let him kill Charlie. Not for her father's sake, but for Edward's. Charlie wasn't worth whatever his death would cost. She had to take care of Edward just as he took care of her, and this was one way she could do that.

"You won't lose us." She brushed a kiss along his jaw and held him tightly. "I love you. Will you take me to bed, please?"

He didn't argue.

But neither did Bella sleep.

Edward held her above her blankets, curled protectively around her body. He knew she wasn't asleep—her light breaths and quick heartbeat told him as much. Vague frustration prickled at him, because he had absolutely no idea what thoughts plagued her sleep. Anyone else, and he'd be able to tease it from the mind without any trouble. But not Bella. He'd never been able to hear Bella.

She responded sweetly when he made love to her, the soft human body he loved so much trembling with pleasure under his hands and mouth. She kissed him as if starved for the touch of granite skin under her lips, her sweet human self molding to him, so fragile, so wanting. Bella no longer feared physical love—not from him. She craved it, craved the sensation of being utterly, completely loved.

"Forever, Bella," he promised as she cuddled against him in the warm aftermath, boneless and replete. Even the child in her womb quieted. "I'm yours forever."

She tipped her face up and nuzzled his nose. "You'll turn me?" Her voice was a muted whisper. "After she's born?"

He nodded, brushing his lips along the well-loved contours of her face. "If that's what you want. You're in charge now."

"It's what I want. I don't want to grow old without you."

He chuckled. "If you want to stay human, I will be with you through it all—every age. I will love you for as long as I have you."

"And after? When I die? What will you do then? Jasper told me finding a mate is a one-time thing for vampires."

"It is." Edward pulled her close, letting her tuck her head under his chin. These were questions he didn't like thinking about. "I don't know how long she'll be with us," he said slowly, placing his hand on her belly. "We just don't know what her future will be. But...if there ever comes a time when you're both gone and I'm still here..." He shook his head. "I won't be, much longer. You're my life now."

Bella understood completely.

She also understood that all this worry about Charlie being free wasn't good for her, and her daughter's health was contingent upon her own. She let Edward settle her under her blankets again, curling into his arms for comfort. He meant the world to her—Edward, and the daughter they'd created. Charlie being free threatened this little family, and Carlisle was right that they could not run away. Not right now.

So for the sake of the baby she carried, the daughter Edward yearned for, she had to do something.

Which was why, the next afternoon while Esme was mulching her garden, Bella took the keys to the new black Volvo she'd been given. Edward was hers to protect, as was the daughter she carried. Charlie was a threat to all of them if he stayed out of jail, and since she couldn't let anyone in her new family kill him, that left one option.

Luckily, she knew exactly where he'd be at this hour. Charlie was nothing if not set in his ways.


	44. Chapter 44

When she reached the diner, Bella was almost surprised to see Jasper there, leaning casually against the door of Emmett's jeep in the rain, waiting for her.

Almost.

She shoved her hands into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie as she approached him, relieved to see the sardonic smile hovering on his beautiful face. At least he wasn't angry. She was pretty sure Edward was going to be furious when he found out—if he didn't know already.

"Alice or Esme?" She came to a halt next to Jasper. The Jeep's engine clicked and popped as it cooled; he'd obviously been here mere minutes.

"Both, actually," he said, wiping rain-darkened hair from his face with a slow, silken movement. "So, what's the game plan, baby sister? I'm just playing bodyguard, I promise; you're the general here. But I have to ask...you're not gonna go all Oedipus on your old papa now, are you?"

Bella wrinkled her nose. "Oedipus is, by definition, a son, not a daughter."

Jasper shrugged lazily, his smile broadening. "So sue me for historical inaccuracy. There's no real allusion that fits your situation."

Bella actually managed a short laugh, despite her nerves. "You'd have to put a bunch of them in a blender. Dracula and some sort of poor orphan story..."

Jasper chuckled. "You're a literary mashup, little Bella. You're also in charge of this ruse. What shall I do?"

She bit her lip, looking at the door of the diner. Charlie was in there—she could feel the cold hulk of his police cruiser behind her and knew he was inside, having lunch, as he always was at this hour. Predictable Charlie.

"I can't live like this, Jasper," she said softly, looking up into understanding gold eyes. Jasper was the member of the family she'd connected least with, and yet she was glad of his presence. Bless Alice for sending her calm husband rather than one of the more temperamental siblings. Edward or Rose would likely hand her her head for risking herself like this, but they didn't understand. Not really. Not how it felt to live with the threat of Charlie looming over her every second. "I need it to stop."

"I don't think anyone could blame you for that. The calm before the storm is misnamed. It isn't calm at all—it's a silent hell." He swiped at his rain-soaked hair again.

"I wasn't planning on doing anything but provoking him." Bella stared at the door of the restaurant. She was starting to tremble, and was now fiercely glad that someone from the family was with her despite her earlier insistence on doing this alone. "I don't know what he'll do if he sees me, but I don't think he can control himself."

"So...maybe we just go in and order some food?" Jasper suggested. "Totally innocent-like. We'll get it to go, so we can wait right up by the counter where everyone inside will see."

That sounded good. Innocent, just as Jasper suggested. Technically, if an accidental meeting took place while she had her order of protection, Charlie was supposed to leave the vicinity immediately. She doubted he would.

"Ease the tremble, little sister." Jasper's voice was gentle, coaxing. She could easily imagine him talking to a spooked horse in the same tone, once upon a time. "Everything's gonna be okay. I won't let him hurt you."

"It has to look good, though," she whispered.

Jasper inclined his head in a quick nod. "Trust me, Bella. I'm not as fast as Edward, but I'm stronger, and smarter. You're safe with me." He scratched his chin. "Well, from Charlie, at least. All bets are off when Edward gets home."

Bella chuckled. "Edward would never hurt me."

"You're right. He wouldn't. But that doesn't mean he won't be mad." He tipped his head toward the diner, rain spilling from the eaves. "Shall we?"

She took a slow, deep breath, willing herself to follow his advice and ease her tense body, and managed to compose herself a little better. The fine tremble in her bones didn't quite disappear, but Jasper did not comment on it again. He simply slid into place at her side, eyes focused ahead, on their target. They gleamed gold, bright in the dull grey watercolor rain. Bella had no doubt that even from out here he could smell Charlie, feel him with his sixth sense. His body did not tense with nerves like hers, but she could feel the wary, coiled attention of a soldier in the way he held himself. To him, this was a mission. He was her bodyguard, tasked with the duty of keeping her safe. While she'd wanted to do this alone, now that she was actually here, just steps away from her father, she was slowly beginning to change her mind. A member of the family with her was a good idea, she decided. Just because Charlie had never hurt her in public before didn't mean he never would.

With one more breath, she stepped forward.

Time and space took on an odd quality; her focus sharpened, background blurring into a hazy wash. She could smell the bite of rain-slicked pavement so well, hot oil from the diner's ventilation system, hints of engine grease and gasoline. Her sneakers crunched gravel; Jasper, beside her, was silent.

In what seemed like the span of one human heartbeat, they were at the door. A round man about Charlie's age exited, holding the door behind him. Jasper caught, held it. Without giving herself time to reconsider, Bella stepped through.

There he was, in his accustomed seat at a booth that was meant for four—not that anyone ever challenged him for taking up too much space. The town didn't know the truth about Charlie, but they knew enough.

Jasper felt Bella's heart stutter, then speed rapidly, as she beheld her father for the first time since the family court hearing. He could feel her terror, but also her resolve. She _needed_ to do this. The constant worry about what Charlie might do was making her sick, and that was unacceptable. Since she'd forbidden the rest of the family from taking care of Forks' chief of police for her, it was all in her hands now. He'd never let anything happen to his new sister, but as he'd told her, he was just the backup. This was _her_ show.

And, though fear seeped from her in waves, tainting the air with a tangible bitter bite, her steps did not falter. She walked to the counter, placed a hand on it to steady herself, and even managed to force a smile at the waitress.

"Bella." Cora's voice wasn't loud, but neither was the diner busy. What little noise there was faded away as patrons looked up from their meals. Jasper could not hear their thoughts; that was Edward's department. He could guess, though, from their emotions. The few people in the diner were surprised to see her, since she'd sequestered herself in the Cullen house and refused to go into town. Gossip ran rampant in small towns, but Jasper's family did not take part, and Charlie had been angrily silent on the issue since losing custody of his daughter. So the surprise was expected, as was the rush of curiosity as people turned from the small teenager at the counter, seeking out their chief of police.

"We were just going to grab something to go." Jasper spoke into the silence, giving the waitress his best slow half smile. "Esme's been so busy today, we thought we'd give her a hand and bring home dinner." He purposefully pitched his voice to be heard throughout the small restaurant—resonant, but not booming. In his many long years walking this earth, he'd learned that he didn't need to shout to be heard.

Today proved to be no exception.

Jasper placed himself beside Bella in relation to the counter, but behind her in relation to her father. Charlie had a clear view of the girl, and Jasper stood ready to protect her as the uniformed man slowly raised his head.

He'd been eating a steak sandwich, and a smear of horseradish lingered along the bottom edge of his moustache. It didn't make him any less terrifying to the girl he'd fathered, as her heart raced even faster. Jasper wanted to put his hand out, to touch her elbow or wrist, remind her that he was still here, that he would protect her, but he didn't want to startle her.

He stayed where he was.

Charlie's black eyes glittered with malevolence, his face oddly devoid of expression as he stared at his daughter. The tension in the room ratcheted higher, tighter, and Jasper heard the breathing of the other patrons grow shallower as they, too, felt the strain. Bella was trembling again. The baby in her belly moved suddenly, perhaps in response to its mother's distress, and Jasper heard the movement even as he saw Bella's body jerk.

Seconds passed. Almost a minute. Charlie glared at his daughter, who managed to hold his gaze...but just barely. She hardly breathed, her breaths high and rapid as adrenaline seeped into her bloodstream and her heart thundered, much like the prey animals Jasper hunted. He braced himself against that mouthwatering scent, attention steady on Charlie. Charlie was a threat. This was battle, not a hunt. Later he could sate himself on something rough and wild—bear or wolf, perhaps. Right now, his duty was to keep Bella alive and intact.

Finally, Charlie spoke. "Get out." His voice was low; flat and dangerous. His dark eyes, so different from his daughter's, reflected nothing.

Bella flinched at the sound of his voice. She drew a rattling breath, but Jasper was proud as punch when she talked back to the source of her fear. "It's a f-free country," she said, only faltering a little. "I can be here if I want."

They were childish words, but she was standing up for herself.

"The hell it is!" Charlie's voice rose, rolling from him, though he wasn't quite shouting. Yet. "You get on out of here now, hear?"

"Actually, Chief, you can't tell her what to do anymore, remember? You lost custody of her. Now that's Esme and Carlisle's job."

A ripple of murmurs bled through the crowd at Jasper's words, just as he intended. Charlie's face grew red.

"I refuse to call that ungrateful whore my daughter!" Charlie's words grew louder, until he really was yelling. "But I'm still the chief of police, and what I say goes! You two get the fuck out of here—now!"

"The restraining order says y-you have to leave. Not me."

Compared to her father's voice, Bella was barely whispering, but the silent patrons definitely heard her. They gaped at the scene in front of them, mostly shocked at the revelations about their chief of police. Jasper hid a smug smile. The rumor mill would have a field day with this. Not that spreading gossip was Bella's intention, but still. Her fuckup of a father deserved it.

"And not even police chiefs are above the law," he added helpfully. "Shall I hold the door for you?"

Charlie moved incredibly fast for a man of his age. He was on his feet, sidearm drawn, and had fired off two shots before anyone in the diner managed to scream.

Jasper was faster...but he didn't expect the bullets to be aimed at him.

Bella was between him and the diner counter; he couldn't shove her out of the way. He managed to pick her up and push her unceremoniously over the counter, where she fell at a terrified Cora's feet, but even with his vampire reflexes it took time. The second bullet hissed harmlessly by, but the first ricocheted off his impenetrable skin and he heard a yelp and felt a burst of very physical pain from Bella before he was able to push her to safety.

Not good. _Very_ not good.

"Help her!" he demanded of the waitress, and only barely managed to keep to something resembling human speed as he rushed Charlie. He wanted to demand someone call the cops, but they needed state police, not Forks police, and he didn't have time to explain that to the other humans in the diner, who either cowered under tables or lurched for the door. Maybe Alice had seen something, though her gift was notoriously unpredictable when it came to Bella. He could only hope as he knocked Charlie's gun from his hand, incidentally breaking several of the man's fragile bones in the process.

An accident, of course.

Charlie howled, whether in rage or pain, Jasper couldn't say. He was feeling a fair amount of both at the moment. He lunged for him with his bare hands, but Jasper was far too fast and too strong for the attack to have any effect. He batted Charlie away as one would swat a fly, and stood squarely between the irate man and the counter behind which Bella cowered. The police-issue sidearm lay under a chair, and he kept half an eye on it in case Charlie lunged for it. With part of his mind, he stretched toward the throbbing pain identifiable as Bella. She was rightfully scared, but her fear was coated with dazed relief—relief that the wait was finally over and, for better or worse, she had forced Charlie into action. Pain radiated from the outside of one thigh, but from the feel of it in his own head, Jasper could tell that the damage done was not life-threatening. The ricocheting bullet had ripped through flesh but missed the vital arteries keeping her alive. She was in no danger of bleeding out in the next few minutes.

If he could stop himself from biting her.

Cora was frozen where she stood—no help to Bella. "Call the hospital!" Jasper barked, struggling not to breathe. The rich scent of Bella's blood called to the beast in him. "Tell them Carlisle's needed here _now_!" He could control himself long enough for help to arrive, he told himself firmly. He had a job to do—to keep Charlie at bay until someone else took over.

Still, the full, sweet, tantalizing smell of blood lingered in the air, on his tongue. Fresh, hot blood. _Human_ blood, his natural food source, which he had denied himself for decades. It whispered to the beast in him, only lightly chained, like salvation, like the key to making everything in his world right again. He swayed on his feet, just a little. Charlie would never see it, but Jasper could feel his resolve waver. He couldn't see the thick crimson flow, but he could picture it perfectly—how it would saturate Bella's jeans, turning soft blue denim black and sticky, hot with life. Life that could come to him, sustain him, if he just stopped fighting. She was just over the counter; it would be so, so easy...

"Jasper!"

The familiar sound of his other sister's voice was sweet relief, and he relaxed minutely as Rosalie stepped up beside him, blond hair immaculate, murder in her eyes.

"It's okay," she said. "I've got this." Dark, bloody glee rolled through her; Jasper shuddered at its intensity.

"Hey, baby sister. Don't cry. Big brother's got you." Emmett's voice, oddly soothing, floated from behind Jasper. He turned his head just enough to see Emmett rise from behind the counter, Bella cradled in his arms. She looked so small against his bulk, her face paper-white, one jean-clad leg soaked with blood.

Jasper glanced at Rosalie, who nodded him toward the door. Sweet relief: he could get away from the tempting scent of Bella's blood, and take his hunger out on something less...human. He turned to go, and heard Bella's voice, thick with pain but stronger than he expected. "Rose, don't. Don't."

Rosalie threw up her manicured hands. "Seriously? We're _seriously_ still doing this? Even after he—"

"Rose, _please_."

Jasper couldn't stand it anymore. He slipped outside, just in time to see Carlisle's sleek black Mercedes slide into the parking lot.

"Go." His father-figure nodded him toward the woods and, relieved of his duty, Jasper ran.

Inside, only three humans remained—two patrons and Cora—aside from Bella and the police chief. Carlisle observed his eldest and youngest daughters locked in a silent battle of wills, Rose standing protectively between Bella and Charlie. Bella's biological father stood red-faced and wide-eyed, swaying slightly, staring at Rosalie as if he wasn't quite sure how dangerous she might be. One hand clutched his other in a way Carlisle knew well from working in the emergency room. That hand was broken. Whether Rose, Jasper, or someone else had done it, Carlisle couldn't guess, but he felt no sympathy for the man's pain.

Far more important than Charlie's broken hand was Bella's bleeding wound. Emmett showed excellent control as he held her, but that control could snap at any moment; they needed to get her away from any potential threat, and that included her vampire siblings as well as her biological father.

"Bella." He pitched his voice low, soft, to get her attention without frightening her. Her heart rate was dangerously rapid, her breaths fast and shallow. She wasn't getting enough oxygen, and she was in danger of passing out. "Bella, sweetheart, it's Carlisle. Come with me, please." He locked eyes with Emmett, who took a step toward the door.

"Don't." Bella swallowed hard. Her arms shook as she held onto Emmett. "Rose, please. Don't hurt him. He's not worth it."

Rosalie swore under her breath. Rebellion flared in her eyes, but Carlisle suspected she would obey Bella's wish when his own command might not hold sway. "Emmett," he said. "Emmett, bring her here. She needs medical attention."

Bella cast one last pleading look at her sister. Rose's furious scowl turned even darker, but she stomped one boot heel down hard on the linoleum floor and pulled out her cell phone. "I'm calling the state police, and this piece of shit isn't leaving until they take him away in handcuffs."

Carlisle left her to it, trusting her to hold her own against Charlie. He held the door open for Emmett, ushering him toward the Mercedes.

"I'll get it bloody," Bella objected, but Carlisle hushed her as Emmett gently placed her in the back seat.

"It doesn't matter," he said, firm but gentle, covering her with a blanket in case she went into shock. He elevated her legs by wadding up another blanket underneath them, and pressed Bella's own hands to her covered wound. "You're more important, sweetheart. Can you hold that there, please? Pressure will help stop the bleeding. Come on, let's go home."

Emmett disappeared back inside the diner, presumably to help Rose though she didn't need the assistance, and Carlisle pulled carefully out of the parking lot and onto the street.

"Talk to me, Bella," he said, shifting the rear view mirror so he could watch the prone girl in the back seat. "I need to make sure you're not going into shock. Humor me—what's your full name?"

"Isabella Marie S-swan." Her voice shook, but she answered correctly. Her eyes blinked slowly. "But I d-don't want to be a Swan anymore. Can I be a Cullen? I want to be a C-cullen."

Her words were slightly slurred; shock was a definite possibility. "Of course you can," he told her, speaking slightly louder than usual, slow and clear. "Take deep breaths for me, please, Bella. Good, deep breaths. When were you born?"

"S-september." She inhaled quickly, then put a hand to her head. "Ohhh..."

"Dizzy?" He pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. They were almost home. "Don't take your hand off the wound. Keep pressure on it."

She obediently returned her hand to her thigh, leaving a bloody handprint on the side of her face.

"You know that wasn't the smartest stunt to pull, right? You could have been killed."

"I'm not sorry," Bella said, in the first sign of belligerence Carlisle had ever seen from her. "I'm t-tired of being scared."

"Well, Charlie's likely being taken into custody by the state police as we speak. Was that what you wanted? Was that what you were trying to accomplish?" Carlisle did his best not to scold, but he honestly didn't understand exactly why she'd risked herself and the child she carried when the family would have been glad to help her think of a better plan. "He's going to lose his badge over this, at the very least."

"I just wanted it to s-stop." She was mumbling now, shaking harder. It was with a great deal of relief that Carlisle pulled into the long driveway that led to their house.

Edward, Esme, and Alice were waiting in the rain just outside the garage. As Carlisle killed the engine, Edward was already opening the back door and reaching in for his mate.

"Gentle," Carlisle said, though he hardly needed to remind Edward of Bella's fragile nature. Tender hands guided her body from the car, even as Edward's marble features were set in a furious frown.

"Will you please do me the courtesy of informing me first, the next time you try to get yourself killed?" Edward's harsh words were tempered by the fear in his voice. "God, what did he _do_ to you? There's blood everywhere!"

They were in the spare room Carlisle had set up to monitor the health of Bella and her unborn baby without raising suspicion at the hospital, and Edward lowered her to the vinyl-covered examination table as Carlisle rooted in a drawer for scissors to cut away the leg of Bella's jeans. He moved the blanket to expose her legs, but kept it tucked close around her upper body. "Hold her hands, Edward," he said, working swiftly, cutting away the saturated denim to reveal pearl-pale skin and an ugly gash where a bullet had torn flesh without embedding itself inside her leg. She was extremely lucky. "Unless you think you can't handle it," he added, dousing the wound with sterile fluid. Bloody water ran in trickles over the new examination table and onto the floor.

"I can handle it." Edward spoke through clenched teeth, standing at Bella's head and holding both her hands. She whined, a high-pitched protest of pain, at Carlisle's ministrations.

"Don't come in if you can't handle the blood," Carlisle warned Esme and Alice, who hovered in the doorway. "Alice, I sent Jasper to hunt."

"Yes, I know." She stepped back. "I'll go find him and tell him not to come home for a little while."

"That might be best. He controlled himself admirably today, but there's no reason to tempt fate."

Edward snorted his opinion of this. Alice made a face at him, but her usual exuberant nature was subdued by the situation. She left, and Esme stepped into the room to take one of Bella's hands.

"M-mom." Bella shook. Cold vampire hands weren't ideal, but she needed something to hold onto. "I d-don't want to be a S-swan anymore."

"You don't have to be, baby." She stroked the blood-crusted hair. "Carlisle, can we clean her up?"

"Let me stitch this first." He prodded the wound, making Bella wince. It wasn't bleeding too much anymore, but it needed a doctor's care. "She's in shock—the important thing is to keep her warm and comfortable, and she needs intravenous fluids. I'm going to give her some extra oxygen, too. It can't hurt."

"What about the baby?"

Carlisle exhaled. "One thing at a time. Bella, this may pinch a little. I'm sorry for that." He worked quickly and efficiently, closing the wound in her leg. She jerked once at the first punch of the needle through her skin, but other than that remained still, save for the constant tremble in her limbs.

"Edward?" Her head turned, and she blinked flat, glassy eyes at her vampire mate. "I don't want to be a Swan anymore. I want to be a C-cullen."

A sharp bark of laughter left him, as if he couldn't help himself. "Marry me, then, Bella. Marry me, you impossible girl, and I'll make you a Cullen."

Carlisle wanted to warn Edward that she was in no position to make decisions like that right now, but he held off. Edward already knew, or ought to.

"I don't like fancy dresses." Bella tossed her head fretfully. "I just want to be a Cullen. Ow! Carlisle, that hurts."

"You can have some painkiller in your IV," he promised. "Just a moment."

"Kay."

Edward stroked her cheek as Carlisle probed the inside of her elbow for a good vein. She shivered, but nonetheless turned her face into his cold palm.

"Just a little prick now."

She sucked a breath through her teeth as the needle slid into her vein. Carlisle set up the IV while Esme stroked Bella's matted hair and Edward did his best to soothe her. "You don't have to wear a fancy dress. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

Bella's free hand reached for her stomach. "She's a Cullen," she said, stroking the swell of her abdomen with her thumb.

"Yes, she certainly is." Edward managed half a smile.

"So I should be, too."

"Bella, no one here is disagreeing with you." Carlisle leaned into her field of vision, watching as her flat eyes struggled to focus. Her voice, usually soft and retiring, sounded distinctly childlike as she struggled against the symptoms of shock. Confusion and difficulty concentrating were quite common; he wouldn't worry unless they continued after her heart and blood pressure settled. "If you want to marry Edward, you're welcome to do so. But let's deal with one thing at a time, shall we? I want you to breathe some oxygen for me, and Esme wants to clean you up a little and make you more comfortable."

Bella obeyed with her usual meekness, holding the mask of a portable oxygen unit to her mouth and nose while Carlisle placed a light dressing on her wound and Esme washed the dried blood from her hair and face with a soft towel and warm water. Edward exhaled a long, slow breath, his hands feathering lightly over her shoulders and throat, touching with the barest contact, feeling warm skin, a steady pulse; these things calmed him.

"I'm still furious," he told her, even as he helped Esme change her out of her bloody clothes and into warm, soft pajamas.

"I know." She sounded...calm. Matter-of-fact. As if she'd known all along that her choice would anger him, and yet she'd done it anyway.

"Later," Esme said firmly, and together they moved Bella, her IV, and the oxygen unit into her bedroom. "We can argue later. Right now, let's just make sure everyone's okay."

Bella drifted, her consciousness never really failing, but Carlisle couldn't say she was entirely lucid, either. She drained one bag of IV fluid laced with painkiller, and her body visibly relaxed when the drug hit her bloodstream. He hooked up a second bag and checked her blood pressure, his ears constantly listening to the sound of her heart. It calmed slowly but steadily, and as her pain eased she also began breathing more deeply, helping to re-oxygenate her body. Edward held the oxygen mask for her when her grip faltered, and the three vampires watched as her cheeks slowly regained something approximating a normal color.

Edward's hands were gentle on her skin. "Carlisle, the baby?"

"I can't say this was _good_ for it per se, but you can hear its heart as well as I can." The fetal heartbeat had risen for a short while, but it was back to its normal, steady pace. Its strength had not faltered. "We can do another sonogram if you're concerned, but I don't think it will tell us much."

"Please." The pain and fear in Edward's voice was too much for Carlisle to resist, so, though he didn't think it was necessary, he hooked up the brand-new portable machine that had been delivered only a week before.

Bella nodded her assent when roused enough to understand what they wanted to do, and she watched along with her family as the fuzzy grey picture appeared on the screen.

"There, see?" Carlisle pointed for Bella's benefit; Edward needed no such explanation. "Here's that nice strong heartbeat you're listening to."

"She's moving." Bella's voice was rich with contentment. "I can feel _and_ see her."

"And she's relying on you to keep her moving," Edward said, though he knew now wasn't the time for recriminations. Not while she was slowly coming out of shock. "You have to be careful, and not take chances."

"Ch-charlie was hurting her because I was always afraid. I won't let him hurt her, so I did what I had to do."

It sounded so simple when she said it.

* * *

Later that evening, the family converged on the living room to discuss the events of the day. The house had been well-aired so the scent of blood no longer lingered, and everyone, including Bella, had washed thoroughly. She wore warm pajamas and was wrapped in a blanket, reclined on the couch with her legs still elevated, as per Carlisle's directive, and she had a tray on her lap with a bowl of soup and a mug of tea.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes at her newest sister. "No," she said, "even though he fucking deserved it." She bounced a whiny Mason on her lap—it was past his bedtime, but he was cutting another tooth and the pain kept him up all hours of the night. How a human woman who needed to sleep was supposed to deal with this, Rose didn't know. She didn't mind bouncing her cranky boy as he chewed on a cold teething ring from the refrigerator, but surely a human mother didn't have the same sort of stamina?

"Bella, why did you do it?" Edward broke the ice, asking the question that had been on everyone's mind. "Why didn't you _tell_ us this was bothering you so much? We could have helped you." The hurt in his voice was palpable.

She frowned, searching for the words to explain how she felt and why she'd acted alone. It wasn't easy to describe how Charlie made her feel, and how positive she'd been that this was the only way to handle him. "Well, for one, I knew you'd try to talk me out of anything that put me near Charlie."

"You're damn right I would have!" Edward tugged at his hair with a violence he would never, ever use on anyone else. "Your safety is important to me, but you're also carrying our _child_ , Bella! She needs us to protect her!"

"I _was_ protecting her." Bella's lip quivered, and she held back angry tears. "The stress—it's bad for her, and I was scared to death that me being afraid of Charlie was hurting her."

"But that still doesn't explain why you didn't come to us first!"

"Because Charlie is my problem—not yours." Bella pushed away the tray of food, her stomach tightening into a sick, anxious knot.

"We're _seriously_ back to that?" Rosalie snapped. "How many times do we have to tell you—"

"You can't fight all my battles for me!" Bella shot back, sharper than she'd ever spoken to her before. "I get that as a family we help each other, but if I'm always asking for help, I'll never learn how to stand on my own." Her lip quivered, and she pressed her mouth together firmly to stop it. She wasn't going to cry. There was nothing to cry _about_. "I'm sorry if you don't understand. I wish I could explain it better—I do. But...we tried doing things the right way, through the legal system, and it didn't work out. I know you'd do whatever I asked; you'd take me away, make me disappear. As much as I want that—and I do, so badly—it's not right. I can't just leave things hanging." She drew in a deep breath. "Charlie needs to pay, and he wasn't going to. But they can't ignore what he did today."

Edward opened his mouth to argue, but Esme put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I think arguing about what should have been done is pointless. What's done is done. What I'd like to know now is what we're going to do about it."

"Meaning?" Rosalie caught the cold teething ring just as Mason attempted to throw it.

"The state police called Carlisle just before Jasper and Alice came back. Everyone involved has to give statements tomorrow, and I'd like to be sure those statements don't get anyone in trouble." She glanced significantly at Rosalie and Jasper.

"Charlie was aiming for me." Jasper's bright gold eyes gleamed, fresh from a hunt. "Bella got caught by a ricochet. That would cause some questions if we told the truth. Thankfully, I don't think Charlie's in any position to argue the point. I'm not sure the police are going to care which of us he was trying to shoot, only that he did so without any sort of reason. I did provoke him a little by mouthing off, and Bella tried to, too." He grinned at his human sister, who smiled shyly back. "But a little verbal joke is no reason to pull a gun, let alone fire it."

They sat up late into the night, going over their stories, until everyone, even Bella, could tell the approved version with something resembling authenticity. Heidi called around eleven, promising that she would be at the station the next day. Soon after midnight, Edward carried Bella upstairs despite her protests that she was still capable of walking. Carlisle was on his side for once, and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity.

"I'm sorry I worried you," Bella said when they were alone in her bedroom, the door closed firmly behind them. She felt the luxurious comfort of rich pillows at her back as Edward put her gently down on her bed.

His golden eyes were troubled, but they met hers without a struggle. "You're in charge." His voice was a soft, velvet buzz, just above a whisper. The yearning ache in it twisted her insides. "I know that. But please, _please_ don't do something like that to me again."

"I love you." She reached for him, cradling his icy cheek in her palm. "So much. I don't know how to explain why I felt I had to do it." She bit down on her lower lip, pain churning in her stomach as she saw the hurt she'd caused him written plainly across his beautiful face. "Maybe it's something you vampires can't understand. You're so strong. You don't know what it feels like to be helpless."

"Yes, I do." He tilted his head into her touch, soft lips brushing the heel of her hand. "I felt it today—when Alice called and told me you'd gone to find Charlie on your own. I wanted to follow you, to protect you, but she said to go home and wait instead. You have no idea how agonizing that wait was, Bella. Not knowing what was going on, if you were hurt. I knew I couldn't stop myself from killing Charlie if I went to help you, and I think Alice knew, too, which is why she told me to go home. Please, Bella."

Unable to stand the hurt in his voice any longer, Bella shifted and leaned forward, slipping her arms around him and holding him tightly. The stitches in her leg pulled painfully, but she ignored it. This other pain was worse. "I'm sorry," she whispered into the fold of his collar. "I'm sorry."

"Just...I don't understand why you couldn't talk to me and tell me how scared you were." His arms slowly slid around her, pulling her to him as tightly as he dared. "I know I've messed up a lot, but—"

"No," Bella said, pressing closer. "It wasn't you. I don't know if I can explain it. I'm just so afraid, and so tired of _being_ afraid, and so frustrated that I can't do anything for myself. So many rules about what I can and can't say, so many secrets to keep. And...I love you, Edward, I really do. All of you. More than I can express. But I don't want to be waited on hand and foot. It makes me really uncomfortable to have to ask for things. This was something I thought I could do myself." She sighed. "Guess I was wrong. If Alice hadn't sent Jasper..."

Edward shuddered. "Don't." His voice was tight, and he squeezed her a little harder. "Don't finish that thought."

"Sorry."

He kissed the top of her head. "We'll figure this out, I promise. We'll do our best to make sure Charlie can't touch you, but you can have at least a little more freedom. Who knows? Today didn't go as you'd planned, but maybe it still worked. Maybe he'll be remanded without bail, and you can relax until the trial. There will be a trial now—you accomplished that much."

Yes, she had. But even so, Bella was afraid things wouldn't be as easy as Edward said.


	45. Chapter 45

"You can be mad at me." Bella's voice was soft in the gentle night. She looked up into Edward's gaze, liquid brown eyes gentle and solemn. "I understand why you worry, and it's okay with me that you don't agree with what I did. I...appreciate how difficult it must be for you...how weak I must seem."

"Not weak, sweetheart." He exhaled slowly, running his hand feather-light along the sweet length of her bare arm. "Vulnerable, yes." So soft. So warm. Someday that would change— _she_ would change. If he wanted to keep her forever, that was the price they both would have to pay. Her death, and ultimate rebirth as a vampire. It wasn't a fate he would ever wish for her, but what other choice did they have? If she preferred to remain human he wouldn't push the change, but he knew that wasn't her intention. She wanted to be part of this family, completely. And so, at some point after their daughter was born, Bella would have to die.

And if it had to happen, at least it would be at his hands, not Charlie's.

"You understand just how different we really are, physically." His mouth traveled the path his hand had just stroked, kissing softly down the sleek, velvet line of her bare arm. "From my perspective, you are so, so vulnerable. My sweet lamb." His tongue reached skin, swirling the tantalizing crease of her inner elbow. Her breath drew shakily into her body, soft eyes on him. "And this little one even more so." He brushed soft fingertips along the swollen arch of her stomach, where she held within her the promise of new life. "If you are an unguarded lamb, she is a butterfly in the wind."

"I'm sorry I worried you."

By sheer force of will, Edward stopped himself from demanding that she promise never to do it again. Promises like that were just as easily made as broken; he could not realistically hold her to such a vow. His eyes traveled over her prone form, her perfect body relaxed into the mattress of her bed. Her chest rose and fell with each soft human breath, pulse and heart thrumming gently in his ears. Her lush, feminine scent held no trace of fear or anger—only deep, abiding love.

He'd make it as easy and gentle as possible, he vowed. He could not prevent the pain of change, but he could prepare her for it mentally, and he could soothe her fear before, during, and after.

His sweet love.

How could he possibly stay mad at her? Yes, she'd acted recklessly, and he shuddered to think what might have happened if Jasper hadn't been there to help her. He didn't feel like her reasons trumped the danger, but she did have reasons for what she'd done. She wasn't impulsive. She'd made an informed decision, regardless of how much he disagreed with it. Unbidden, Carlisle's words from months ago rose in his head. _Learn to bend. Bella has. When you learn to look the right way, you might just find that she's bending toward you._

"I love you," he said, bringing her into his arms. "You terrified me today and I don't appreciate it, but I love you."

"I love you, too." Her sweet, soft body melted against his side. "I'd never do anything to take me away from you. You have to know that."

Edward held his peace, preferring to hold her close rather than find the words to explain how he felt. He was proud of her for standing up to her father, but he was also so, so scared. She was a fragile human thing, no more able to physically defend herself than a little kitten, and there were wolves about—literal and figurative.

Charlie was friends with members of the tribe. How far would the wolf pack go, he wondered, to protect the chief of police? Rightly, it ought to be none of their business. But there was no love lost between the Cullens and the pack. If Charlie died or turned up missing, would they be suspicious?

"I promised to keep you safe. But I can't protect you from yourself, as much as I wish I could." He pulled her tighter against his body. "Only you can do that."

"I'm fine, Edward. A little nick, that's all. It's worth it if Ch-Charlie finally gets locked up." Her voice caught as she forced herself to say her father's name, the continuing outward tic that gave away her fear of the man.

"Talk to me before you do something like this again." He was begging. He didn't care.

Bella inhaled. She did not want to agree—that was more than obvious.

 _Bend_ , he pleaded silently, wishing he could hear her thoughts as well as he heard the blood flowing through her beautiful body. _Bend with me._

She exhaled with a gentle woosh. "I promise, Edward."

"Thank you." He lowered his head to brush reverent lips across fragile human skin. Nipping softly, teeth kept safely away from tender flesh, he let his mouth draw flowing patterns over her arm, her shoulder, the sweet expanse of her delicate throat. "Thank you."

Their daughter moved inside Bella's womb; Edward chose to see it as agreement with his sentiment. One cold hand splayed over her belly, cupping the growing fetus. Though he still worried about Bella's ultimate safety, he could not deny the intense pull he felt toward this child—his child. He would keep his love safe, he swore silently. He would keep _both_ of them safe.

"I've kept my promise to you," he murmured, voice low in the quiet hush of the nighttime house, "not to interfere with your father. He's still alive because I won't break that promise I made." He flicked his eyes up, watching her face, her half-closed eyes as she reveled in his gentle caresses. "Now you've made a promise just as vital."

"I'll keep it." She reached for him, cupping his cheek in her warm palm for a long moment, liquid eyes opening fully as she spoke her sincerity. "I love you, Edward." Her hand shifted, pushing into his hair, stroking the red-brown strands. "I know what it's like to be afraid all the time. I don't want you to feel that."

She, more than anyone else, would indeed know how that felt. Edward tucked his head, meeting her tempting mouth with his. "Thank you," he repeated. "You must understand—I can't lose you now."

"You won't."

The certainty in her breathed words flowed into him as she yielded to his kiss, plush, sweet lips opening beneath his. As always, he felt his undead heart swell with a riot of emotion he could not name as he carefully kissed her. His arms curled around her lithe little body, bringing her up over him as he rolled to his back. She nipped at his lower lip with her blunt human teeth, and he felt her smile against his mouth. Yes, he thought. She could bite all she liked, whereas he had to be so, so careful that his teeth never came in contact with her fragile human body.

Supple legs drew up to straddle him, and Bella gave no complaint as he pulled her nightshirt from her body. Edward held her bare skin flush against his own, savoring each gentle touch, each time her lips drifted over his cold flesh. Someday, after their daughter was born, she would be turned. Then, they would be the same temperature. She would no longer shiver with chill when his hand cupped or caressed, only with pleasure. And while he would miss the devastating heat of her body, he knew he wouldn't love her any less. She would still be his Bella, his mate—forever meant to be his perfect match.

"Please," she whispered as his hand slipped between her legs, finding her wet and so, so hot. She trembled against him, velvet eyes nearly as black as a hungry vampire's.

The automatic argument that she might not yet be strong enough after her trial today, that they should wait, died on his tongue. Bella inhaled deeply, a whine of supplication, and any caution he might have had melted in the heat of desire. He did not protest as she sank down on him, her body warm and welcoming, so sweet, so perfect. Without conscious thought, the rumbling vibration of his own happiness rolled from his chest.

"I love you," she whispered, but at that moment Edward didn't need the words. He knew.

* * *

Heidi arrived promptly at nine o'clock the next morning, and Bella hugged a large microfiber throw blanket around herself as she sat in one of Esme's immaculate white armchairs. She wore the baggiest jeans and sweatshirt she owned, in the hopes that Heidi would not notice the growing swell of her belly. She was really starting to look pregnant now, not just oddly-shaped, and it was important for them all that Heidi not find out.

"Bella, are you okay?" The caseworker dropped her bag on the floor and perched on the edge of the coffee table, eyes intent on the little human curled tightly in an armchair.

Bella inhaled slowly and nodded on the exhale. "I'm okay," she managed, feeling the baby kick inside her belly. She resisted the urge to rub in slow circles with her thumb, something that seemed to soothe both her and her daughter.

"I was so worried about you! When I spoke with Carlisle last night he urged me to wait until morning because you were shocky, but I don't want you to think I didn't care."

"I believe you." Bella struggled to sit up a little straighter, still holding the blanket around her body. Everyone began to trickle into the room now that Heidi had arrived, and Bella saw from the brief flicker of a frown on Edward's face that he'd wanted to sit next to her on one of the couches. Bella had purposefully chosen the single chair for that reason; as much as she loved Edward and wanted his support, they had to hide their relationship around Heidi. Plenty of people wouldn't understand, and she did not want to do anything that might disrupt her placement with the Cullens. Whether she liked it or not, until she turned eighteen, the state of Washington called the shots.

Since Edward could not, Esme came over and perched on the arm of Bella's chair. She put a cool, calming hand on the girl's shoulder, for which Bella was extremely thankful. Yesterday she'd been strong enough to act alone, but today she wanted the support of her family.

"Two officers from the state police will be here soon," Heidi said, "and Leia Hendricks, from the DA's office. We're going to talk about how this potentially changes things."

"How _does_ it potentially change things?" Emmett leaned against a wall and folded his arms over his chest. "Is Charlie going to jail?"

"He's in lockup at the moment, yes, but what exactly happens now, I don't know. Leia and the police will, though." Heidi searched Bella's soft eyes, the only way she really knew of gauging the girl's emotional state. Bella was always so closed-off, her emotions always tightly controlled. All Heidi knew from looking at her and listening to her few words was that she seemed marginally okay. Not great. Not even necessarily secure. But, for the moment, she was holding herself together.

"I'm here to be your advocate during the interview," Heidi reminded her client. "Leia and the police won't upset you on purpose, but they need answers to their questions. If they for any reason get too invasive, or if there's a question you're not comfortable with, I'm here to help you. Okay?"

Bella nodded. She felt Esme's steady presence at her side, and Edward's unspoken support from across the room. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she had faith that she could do this. Answering questions couldn't be as bad as facing Charlie, and she'd already done that. This was the consequence of her actions. She'd brought Heidi and the police here, and it was her job, now, to make sure her father stayed behind bars where he belonged.

The police officers, two middle-aged men, arrived next, and then Leia Hendricks, looking as polished, put-together, and professional as always. She and Rosalie exchanged glances of cool dislike before she settled down, pulled out her laptop, and nodded at the police.

"Okay," one of the officers said, "now, we need to make something clear—you're not being questioned because you're in any sort of trouble—any of you. We just want to know what happened, in your own words. That's why we're not doing this one at a time, in isolation. I want you as comfortable as possible, especially you, Miss Swan, and I want you to trust us enough to tell us what we need to know. Okay?"

Bella nodded slowly, glancing over at Heidi, who gave her an encouraging smile.

"The video is for your own protection, as well as ours," the other officer added as he set up a small camera on a tripod, adjusting it to take in as much of the room as possible. "This way we won't have to come back and keep asking you to reiterate things; we'll be able to look back at the footage instead."

Bella did not particularly like having her picture taken, or video of her, but this was different. This was for the police, and they probably couldn't care less what she looked like. She huddled deeper into her blanket and tried to ignore the blinking red light that told her she was being recorded.

"So...who would like to start? Take us through the events of yesterday, in your own words."

Before Bella could even think about what she might say, Jasper beat her to it.

"Esme was real busy yesterday, so Bella said we should go get dinner and bring it home. Help out, you know? She's considerate that way. And she's not comfortable around town by herself with her dad walking around free—she's been home-schooling, even, so she won't ever run into him. So I said I'd be glad to go with her."

"Can I interject for a moment?" Leia stopped typing on her laptop and raised one finger above the screen. "Miss Swan, you have an order of protection against your father, if I'm not mistaken."

Bella nodded.

"That means he can't come near you—he can't hurt you. Why, then, were you afraid to leave the house alone?"

"B-because I knew it didn't matter," she stammered when it was clear the family was going to let her answer for herself.

"What didn't matter? The protective order?"

A quick nod. "He wasn't going to p-pay attention to it if he saw me, so I did my best to stay away. I felt too scared to go anywhere."

"So...you haven't left the house since...when? Your family court trial?"

"Just about," Esme agreed, stepping in for Bella. She stroked her long, smooth brown hair. "Bella suffers from panic attacks, and we have no wish to make them worse. Plus, where her father is concerned, I believe her fears are completely valid. When we heard that Chief Swan was not going to be prosecuted for child abuse we felt, much like Bella did, that staying in the same town wasn't safe. We spoke with Bella's social worker, Ms. Fischer, about relocating, but the answer we got was...less than helpful. No fault of yours," she added quickly, giving Heidi a warm smile. "Moving to a different town in the same state, frankly, seemed like ...like..."

"Slapping a Band-Aid on a gangrenous infection," Emmett said helpfully.

The Cullen "children" snickered, and even the police had a hard time hiding smiles.

"We have a property in the north of England, a family estate on my side," Carlisle said. "It was our wish to take Bella there, where Charlie wouldn't know where she was, or be able to reach her. A place where she could feel comfortable starting over. We were told that that wasn't feasible, however."

"So you felt as if your father was still a threat to you, in spite of the protective order. You were therefore avoiding him, and when you did go out yesterday to pick up dinner for the family, you went with one of your foster brothers. Is that correct?" Leia asked.

Bella nodded.

"And what happened when you got to the diner?"  
"Ch-charlie's car was in the parking lot," Bella said softly. "And I was scared, but there isn't anywhere else in town to go. Jasper reminded me that, according to the protective order, he had to leave if I went in, which made me feel a little better. And it was in public—there were lots of other people there. I was afraid, but part of me didn't believe he'd actually do anything, because I wasn't alone."

"So you went inside, the two of you, to order food. What happened next?"

"Charlie saw us. Or heard us—I don't know which came first," Jasper said, which Bella knew was a lie. Jasper knew exactly when Charlie had heard them. "At first he just stared. Like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, you know? And then he ordered us to get out. Poor Bella was freaking out at that point. I tried to remind him that he had to leave, not her. That's when he sort of went nuts."

"Went nuts? How?"

"Well, he pulled out his gun—he was in uniform and everything, but I don't know if he was actually on duty. He fired two shots at us, but he missed with one and hit Bella with the other." No talk of ricochet. "I spent some time in military school, so I like to think I've got pretty good reflexes. I pushed Bella over the counter to hide behind it, and I got the gun away from Charlie."

"Mr. Swan has several broken bones in his hand. Can you account for that?"

Jasper shrugged. "Might have happened in the struggle. I was unarmed, and he'd already shot at us. I call it self-defense."

"Son," one of the policemen said, "that falls under self defense if anything does. Don't worry—I said you weren't in trouble, and you're not."

Jasper smiled his slow, Southern grin. "Appreciate it."

"What you did, protecting your foster-sister, was—dare I say—heroic. I hope she knows what a good friend she has in you."

Bella smiled when Jasper met her gaze. Yes, she knew.

Alice beamed from her spot near the door.

"I guess I'm next," Rosalie said, setting down the mug she'd been cradling in her hands. "Emmett and I were headed home from school in my car, and we saw Emmett's Jeep in the diner parking lot, so we wondered who took it. As we drove by, a bunch of people suddenly ran out of the diner. Emmett thought it was weird, so he told me to pull in to see what was going on. When we walked into the restaurant, we saw Jasper and Chief Swan in a weird standoff. I went to him, and he told us Bella was behind the counter with Cora, the waitress. Emmett checked on her, and we realized she'd been shot. He texted Carlisle, who came right away and took Bella home while I called the state police to come get the chief."

"Why didn't you just call 911?"

A flash of dislike like a sudden thunderstorm erupted over Rosalie's perfect face and was gone again in less than a human heartbeat. "Bella's scared of having too many people around, so Carlisle was a safer place to start than the hospital. He'd be able to tell if she could be treated at home or not. And I didn't know if dispatch would send the state police or just the local force. We can't trust the local force, since Charlie's their chief." She only barely contained herself from adding "you idiot" onto the end of her explanation, but Bella heard it plainly in the tone of her voice.

"Little Bella was all white and shaky when I got her in Carlisle's car," Emmett added. "I wanted to go with her to make sure she was okay, but Carlisle said to wait for the police with Rose, so I did. Charlie didn't have his gun anymore, so he was no match for me." He grinned wide, a malevolent gleam in his eyes that belied the humorous lilt in his voice. No matter how much he might be joking, he was also telling the truth. Even with his sidearm, Charlie would be no match for the giant vampire.

"Dr. Cullen?" one of the policemen asked.

"I was thankfully between patients when Emmett notified me that Bella was injured. He didn't tell me much—I knew Bella was hurt and Chief Swan was involved, but nothing else. She was clearly going into shock when I reached the diner, but the wound itself didn't look life-threatening. Because of her anxiety around people, I opted to take her home rather than the hospital. There, I treated her shock and the bullet wound with the help of my wife and my son, Edward, who's thinking about going into medicine when he graduates. The wound is fairly deep and I'm sure it's less than pleasant, but it isn't terribly serious. The bullet thankfully missed the femoral artery, and it exited the body so we didn't have to worry about that. After debriding the wound, I gave her twelve stitches. We treated her shock with warmth and rest and some oxygen, and let time do its magic. I want her off that leg as much as possible for the next few days, and she's no doubt sore and shaken, but she'll mend."

"Why didn't you stay at the diner with your other children, or insist they evacuate the area due to the presence of a clearly dangerous person?"

Carlisle shrugged, looking as calm as ever even under scrutiny. "My children are extremely mature for their ages, and my wife and I have done our best to foster a healthy sense of independence in them. They're seniors and juniors in high school, after all. They're not babies. Bella needed medical care urgently, and I was the only one at the scene qualified to give it. Both Emmett and Rosalie are eminently capable of protecting themselves physically, especially since Charlie no longer had possession of his weapon. If he still had his gun, the situation would no doubt have been handled differently. As it stood, we no longer viewed him as a threat to our family—except Bella. She needed to be removed from the scene as quickly as possible. I can understand that it wasn't necessarily the procedure you would have taken, but everyone managed to make it home with no further injuries."

Faced with Carlisle's unending calm, the police ceased questioning his actions.

" _Now_ do you see what kind of threat that man is?" Rosalie demanded, turning on Leia Hendricks. " _Now_ will you finally prosecute him?"

The lawyer eyed Rose with the sort of professional detachment that made the eldest Cullen sister see red. "That all depends."

"On what?"

"Mr. Swan violated an order of protection issued on the advice of a Washington state judge. We'll charge him for that, of course, but here's how it'll go. We'll charge him, he'll plead no contest in exchange for a reduced sentence. He'll be back on the streets in under a year." She shrugged. "It's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth."

"What about the rest of it?" Rosalie's voice rose, her displeasure readily apparent. "He tried to kill her!"

"The assault is a much more serious charge, yes," the attorney agreed.

"And?"

"And it all depends on whether Bella and Jasper are willing to press charges." Ms. Hendricks turned to Carlisle and Esme. "This is something you'll have to think over as a family, I'm sure. Mr. Swan is a proud man, and I don't see him making a deal if he's forced to plead guilty. That means we'd have to go to trial, and a trial means a lot of time and effort on your part. Bella and Jasper will have to testify, along with most of the rest of the family. I'm not even sure, off the top of my head, what we'd charge him with."

"What do you mean? He fucking—"

"Rosalie," Carlisle murmured. Scowling, Rose quieted.

"Do we call this assault with a deadly weapon, or attempted murder? The first would be easier to prove, but it also comes with a shorter sentence. To prove attempted murder, we'd have to prove intent. In this case, that may be difficult. We won't have a chance at arguing premeditation—you surprised him and he reacted. He may even try an insanity defense—who knows?"

"You're right," Esme said, stroking Bella's hair softly. The girl was shaking now, her dark eyes blank. "We have a lot to think about."

"What happens for now, though?" Jasper asked. "Does the chief sit in jail for a while? What about his job?"

"The state police will hold a hearing to remove him from his position. I can guarantee you that after this stunt he won't be wearing a badge anymore. As far as jail goes, he'll probably be out in a day or two if he makes bail. Remember, the only charge against him at the moment is violating a protective order."

"I want to press charges."

Leia's eyes snapped to Bella. "Are you sure?" She glanced at Esme, then back at Bella. "I know you're still shaken up. I want this to be a decision you and your family are sure of. Once we start this ball rolling, the DA's office will make your life a living hell if you change your mind."

Bella shook her head decisively. "I want to press charges. I want him behind bars."

The lawyer looked at Esme again, then Carlisle.

Bella's new father nodded gently. "Go ahead. If that's what Bella wants, we're behind her one hundred percent."

Leia turned back to Bella. "Then," she said, "we have some paperwork to fill out."

* * *

As it turned out, Charlie was more than happy to make bail. Where he got the money, whether from family, friends, a bondsman, or other means, Bella didn't want to know. All she understood was that she was still trapped in the same town with her father, and there was no telling when the situation would end. His trial date could be more than a year away, Leia said. There was just no way to know how long it would take.

Charlie lost his badge a week and a half after the incident at the diner, but that was cold comfort to his daughter, who holed up in the Cullen household again and refused to leave the safety of the big, modern home. She always had a member of the family nearby and had promised not to run off again, but she didn't feel any safer than she had before. All that fear, all that effort, and she was right back where she'd started—trapped and frightened, sometimes unable to sleep at night despite her constant, loving vampire companions. She grew pale—paler than before—and stopped gaining weight, though her belly continued to expand slowly as the child inside her grew.

"Bella, sweetheart, you have to eat," Esme urged. Bella did, halfheartedly chewing rounds off a black pudding, but her adoptive mother could tell she had no stomach for the food, though the baby was still hungry. "Honey, I know you don't want anyone hovering, but we're all worried about you. Edward's about to have a heart attack, and I don't even think that's possible for a vampire."

"I don't want to worry you," Bella whispered. Her fork dropped from her hand with a jarring clink and her vision swam with sudden tears. "I'm sorry. I just—" She shook her head.

"You just what? Talk to me, Bella."

"It was all for nothing."

"No, it wasn't. Charlie's going to go to prison for a very long time. You just have to be brave a little while longer. The wheels of justice turn slowly. Do you remember Carlisle telling you that before?"

Bella nodded as she swallowed against the choking tightness in her throat. "I want—"

Before she could strangle out his name, Edward was beside her. He swept her up in his arms, and she gripped him tightly, hiding her tears in his shirt. "I know." His voice was dark velvet, smoke-sweet, as warm with love as his skin was cold. "I know." He kissed her hot cheek, lips trailing across supple human skin. "Let me kill him, Bella. Please, let me kill him for you."

All Bella could do was cry.

"Once he's dead, all of this stops. You won't have to be afraid anymore."

"Edward." Esme's voice was firm, though gentle. "That option is off the table."

"But—"

"You have to let Bella do this her way. This is her fight, not yours."

"The hell it's not."

"If I let you kill him now, everything I did was pointless. I might as well have let you do it months ago," Bella said, struggling to get her tears under control. She hated crying, how weak it made her feel, how out of control.

"You've been so brave, sweet girl, but you have me so fucking worried right now. You're getting worse, not better, and it needs to stop."

"I'm trying."

"I _know_. I'm not blaming you. But you're carrying my daughter, and I'm scared for you both."

Bella bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, relenting only slightly when she heard Edward's sharp hiss at the wet red smell. "I'll be okay," she whispered, muscles tight, holding herself together through sheer force of will.

Edward's silence told her he didn't necessarily believe her anymore.

* * *

The days plodded on, one after another. Bella did her best to do the things she knew she needed to do—eat, bathe, learn the lessons from her tutors. She met with Leia Hendricks on a regular basis, always swathed in too-big clothes. If the lawyer suspected anything, she did not voice it.

The dark, rainy winter turned into a dark, rainy spring. Bella's baby grew slowly, remaining small. While the diminutive size of her belly definitely worked in their favor, she knew both Carlisle and Edward worried. For some reason she couldn't make herself feel the same way they did, and it wasn't just her general hopeless mood getting in the way. Instead, she felt...at peace, at least with this one thing in her life. Her daughter was just fine; she was sure of it. When Edward went to school, she would stretch out on her bed and hold her belly, talking softly to the living being inside her.

"When I'm old enough," she murmured, knowing Esme could still hear her anyway, "I'm taking you back to Ellison House. It's far, far away from where we are now, and I think it's my favorite place in the world." Not that she'd been to many. Western Washington and Phoenix, Arizona did not make her a world traveler. "It's so beautiful, and Carlisle says they're doing lots of remodeling even though we're stuck here. I know we'll have to move around a lot after we can finally leave Washington, but I'm hoping you can grow up there—as much as possible, anyway. I want you to have a home, a real home. It's something I never got to have until I met the Cullens. You'll never have to worry about that, though, because you _are_ a Cullen. They're the most perfect family, and you get to be one of them. You'll have the best dad, and the best grandparents and aunts and uncles." She paused. "And I'll try to be the best mom I can be. I know I'll mess up, and I'm sorry about that. But everybody else will be there to help when that happens."

Edward treated her more and more like feather-thin blown glass the bigger her belly grew. By Mason's birthday in April, when she was eight months along, he refused to make love to her anymore, no matter how gentle. He didn't trust himself not to hurt her, or the baby that now seemed to move almost all the time. He gave her massages to ease the discomfort in her back and feet, but even that worried him. The slightest bluish hint of a bruise freaked him out, and since Bella had not lost her inherent clumsiness, that meant he was nearly always in a state close to panic. The only thing that truly soothed him was lying in bed with Bella, his head or hand pressed to the swollen curve of her stomach, feeling his child as it moved inside of her. Then he calmed, as if that were the only way he could truly know both Bella and the baby were okay.

"She loves you," he told Bella late one night when she could not fall asleep. "I can hear her. She's faint, but she's there." He smiled against the tight skin of her stomach. "She's a little ball of emotion—it's amazing. So different even from Mason. Your voice is her favorite thing in the world. She knows when you're talking to her, and she calms."

"What about your voice?"

"She likes mine, too, but it's different. With you, she's...reverent. It's like she knows you're the one caring for her. That it's your heartbeat filling her world—giving her life." He paused. "She also likes when I play the piano."

Bella managed a laugh. "I like that, too."

"I'd play for the two of you forever if it made you happy."

"Careful. I might say yes."

Edward shifted, moving carefully until he held Bella in his arms. She turned and twisted until she was as comfortable as she could make herself with a basketball for a belly.

"Bella?"

The house was quiet, save for the barely-there hiss of the forced-air heater and the low murmur from someone else in the house every now and then. Rain drummed on the roof and splattered the windows. Though it was spring and seasonal greenery had returned to the forest, the rain continued. Year in, year out, season after season, the rain was their constant companion. Bella did her best to be thankful for it. Without the rain, she reminded herself, the Cullens might not have moved to Forks. Without the Cullens, her life would be very different right now. There was a possibility she might even be dead.

"Are you really going to be okay tomorrow? I want the truth, please."

She chewed softly on her bottom lip, gauging her answer. "I think so?"

All the decorations for Mason's first birthday had already been hung in preparation for his party tomorrow. Rosalie had wanted a race car theme, but Emmett's desire for a baseball theme won out. Crepe paper streamers and ball-and-bat paper cutouts hung from the ceiling and walls in the living and dining rooms, and Emmett had covered the dining table with a plastic tablecloth printed to look like a ballpark. Esme had baked plain vanilla cake, which would be iced in the morning and decorated to look like a baseball. A side table in the living room was already heaped with presents—most from the Cullen family, but a few from their cousins in Alaska, the only other vampires they trusted with the secret of their new human family members. If the Volturi heard that they had two humans living with them, Alice had told Bella, the repercussions did not bear thinking of.

"I need to know for sure, sweetheart. I can't in good conscience let you go down there tomorrow if it's going to harm you. Things are bad enough already."

"Let me?" Bella raised her head and kissed the sharp line of Edward's jaw. "Like you'd stop me." He still struggled to let her make her own decisions, particularly when he felt something was bad for her health or well-being, but she knew he would never truly deny her. Not after all they'd been through. Neither of them could withstand another separation.

He exhaled a deep breath through his nose, tightening his arms around her body. "I need you to be sure," he said, sidestepping the question.

"I'll be okay. If I get upset, I can always come upstairs for a while. Rose and Emmett will understand."

"They will," Edward agreed. He stroked the tight skin over her swollen belly, unable to stop himself. Bella refused to tease him about it—she knew how much he loved her, and how much he loved their daughter. He worried about them; that was all.

"Being around Mason really doesn't bother me. I don't feel like his mother, and I don't think I ever will, but I'm glad he's here. I'm glad he has such good parents to love him."

"But will his birthday bring up bad memories for you?" Edward asked. "Memories of when he was born?"

Bella shrugged. "I don't think I'll know for sure until it happens." She turned her head further into his shoulder, taking solace in the strength of his body. "I know I've wished so many times that it could have happened differently. I wish I could have put him, newborn, into Rose's arms. She would have known right away that something was wrong, if she saw Charlie with me in the hospital. She and Emmett wouldn't have let it go on once they knew, and they would have had their son right from the start."

Edward kissed her head, his lips lingering in the silk strands of dark hair. "I'm sure they wish the same. And you're right—they wouldn't have let you go back with Charlie, in that scenario. They would have brought you right home to me—where you belong."

* * *

In the morning, Rosalie took Bella aside and pressed a heavy, wrapped gift into her hands.

Bella clasped the package carefully, looking up at the big sister who had saved her in so many ways. "It's not _my_ birthday, Rose."

"I know. But, regardless of what your fuckup of a father did, you made the choice to give birth to my son. You could have gone against Charlie's orders and got an abortion—I know, I know, don't look at me like that. He would have killed you for it, and I'm not sure I'm speaking figuratively when I say that. But you _could_ have made that choice, and you didn't. You gave him life, and then you gave me life when you gave him to us. Just...nothing will ever be enough to thank you for this gift, Bella, and I thought it was only right to celebrate you, too, on his birthday."

Feeling the telltale pinprick of tears, Bella blinked rapidly and set the gift on a side table, reaching out for her sister. Rosalie wrapped her up tightly in a hard, quick embrace, refusing to treat her like glass as Edward did.

"I'm so happy he has you. You're the best thing that could possibly have happened to him."

Rose snorted as she released her human sister. "I don't know about that. A set of human parents would make things easier, but I can't give him up now. I just can't. We'll have to deal with things like school and friends when the time comes, but so will you." She patted Bella's belly gently. "Go on, open your present."

Inside the floral wrapping paper were two large, beautiful baby books, one pale pink, the other lilac.

"I've enjoyed keeping one for Mason, so I thought you might like a place to record things for your little girl. I don't care about perfect vampire memories—I still like putting photos in my books and writing things down."

"Thank you," Bella whispered, holding the books close to her chest. "I think I will like it, and so will Edward." She smiled down at the soft, pale colors. "You think she's a girl, too?"

"You and Edward think so, and I'm not going to bet against you when you both are so sure." Rosalie smiled a genuine, heartfelt smile. "I hope you get to experience everything with her that you can't with Mason."

"I wonder if they'll look alike?"

Rose shrugged. "I'm sure she'll be beautiful, regardless."

"Rose, what are you going to do when he grows up? Are you going to turn him?"

Rosalie exhaled slowly, watching Bella with careful eyes. "Emmett and I have talked a lot about that."

"And?"

"Do you have an opinion? Do you want input?"

Bella shook her head quickly. "No—you're his parents and it's your choice. I just wondered. We don't know what she's going to be yet—it's possible Edward and I will be in the same situation as you, I guess. So I wondered."

"We've agreed that it ought to be his choice, when he's old enough to make it. You know I don't usually agree with changing people. Hell, for the longest time I couldn't believe becoming a vampire was in anyone's best interest. I would have preferred to die that night when Carlisle found me, and because that was my choice..." She shrugged. "But you made me change my mind, you and Mason. It will gut me when he dies, if he chooses a human life. But there's so much he'll miss out on if he chooses a vampire existence. It's so personal, I can't make that decision for him. It wouldn't be right." She watched Bella's fingers trace the edge of her new books. "What are you hoping for? An immortal child, or a mortal one?"

Bella's shoulders hitched up and she shook her head helplessly. "I don't know. I think if I had already made the change I might be able to answer your question, but then it would be a moot point anyway. As long as she's healthy, I think I don't care."

"Do you know what Edward wants?"

One side of Bella's mouth curved up in a fond, lopsided smile. "He's like you—he doesn't approve of a vampire existence. But I don't think he could stand losing his daughter to death, either. He's so in love with her, I think right now he really just wants her to get here. He wants to hold her and feel how real she is. Everything else can wait."


	46. Chapter 46

"Dad?"

"Jacob. I'm glad you're home." Billy wheeled his way down the hall, toward the front door of the house and the rickety ramp that would lead him to the muddy yard. "We have a meeting to get to."

Instantly, Jacob was on alert. "What kind of meeting?"

"The council and the wolf pack. We'll be late."

"Sam didn't say anything about this." Jacob balked. He wasn't sure he wanted to be at a meeting of the elders and the pack. "What's wrong?"

"Jacob, stop running your mouth and help me into the truck. We're going to be late."

Biting his tongue, Jake did as he was told. He lifted his father's bulk into the passenger seat of the old truck, then hoisted the wheelchair into the bed. One benefit of being part of the wolf pack—all these physical tasks were a lot easier now. He was strong and fast, and reveled in it. Being a wolf was his destiny, what he was meant for. Nothing could be better than protecting the tribe with his pack of brothers. And, as a wolf, someday he would find his imprint—a girl to complete him as Emily completed Sam. A girl who would give him a son to follow in his footsteps...his pawprints. He cracked a half smile, slipping into the truck and gently pumping the gas while turning the ignition. This old engine was cranky, but he knew how to handle it.

He wished he could say the same for his father.

No matter how old he got, Jake never felt that he was really a man in his father's eyes. He was still the little boy who got spanked in front of Bella for misbehaving, red-faced with embarrassment, eyes downcast because he could not bear to meet her gaze. God, she had been his best friend for so many years, simply because their fathers were so close. Every summer, like clockwork, she appeared—pale and skinny, clumsy and quiet—in Charlie's looming shadow. She wasn't like Jake's other friends, the boys on the reservation. She didn't laugh or poke fun at him. There was an underlying sweetness to her below the shy exterior. Jake was positive she'd never even _dream_ of laughing at anyone in distress. She didn't giggle about seeing his underwear or his bare ass when Billy took him over his knee. Instead, afterward, she'd slip her pale little hand in his and squeeze softly, lending him what silent support she could.

Funny. He'd never even thought of doing the same when the tables were turned. He just left her alone to cry, dealing only with his own discomfort at seeing her pain.

He'd never thought about that before.

As they pulled onto Harry's street and parked along the muddy roadside, Jake wondered how Bella was doing. He knew by word of mouth that she was living with the Cullens, and that Charlie had been removed from his position as chief of police in Forks. He made a point of not being around when Billy and Charlie got together anymore. Whatever Charlie had to say about it, Jake didn't want to know. His own involvement in Bella's problems pulled at him in a way he didn't particularly like. It felt a lot like guilt, and yet he wasn't sure exactly what he was guilty of. Did he feel guilty for lying to the authorities when Bella begged him to? For siding with her, rather than Charlie? Or was he guilty for taking Bella back to Charlie that night, even though he knew deep in his bones that the police chief was going to hurt her?

Which was right? Which was wrong? Who did he owe an apology?

Why was it all so confusing?

Without any answers, Jacob unloaded the wheelchair and settled his father in it, then followed dutifully as the old man wheeled himself into Harry Clearwater's small house.

Sam and Paul were already there. They inclined their heads in a brief greeting; the mood in the house was tense. Sue hovered behind Harry, one hand on his shoulder and her face a mask of worry. Leah sat in the corner near the fireplace, scowling generally at the circle of elders and the other members of the pack. Emily's arm was slung over Seth's shoulder; the kid's black eyes sparkled with excitement at his first meeting with the elders.

"Hey, Black. Wassup?" Embry stepped out of the kitchen, his mouth full. He held half of a sandwich in one hand and bumped Jake's fist with the other.

"Hell if I know. You?"

Embry swallowed. "Something about the Cullens, I think. I wish Sam would phase so I could get it from his head, but he won't." He made a face.

"Why didn't he warn us?"

"Why should he?" Paul asked, sidling over. "We'll know when we need to know."

"Which might be now." Embry nodded at Harry, who raised his hands for silence. "Listen," he whispered.

"Good evening," Harry said, settling further into his chair. Sue squeezed his shoulder again, her worried look not easing. Harry had not been in good health lately, and his wife constantly urged him to take things easier, to rest. Harry, being stubborn and...well, Harry...refused.

"Thank you for heeding the summons," he said. "We have something serious to discuss tonight."

Billy took a breath and wheeled himself a little closer to the center of the room. "You all are aware that the Cold Ones named Cullen have returned, and that as a tribe we have acknowledged and will abide by the old treaty."

A few unhappy mutters around the circle told Jake that plenty of the elders did not approve of any vampires in their territory, treaty or no treaty.

"The treaty states that the Cullens may not come onto our land. They may not kill humans, and they may not make more of their kind."

"Which provision have they broken?" another elder asked.

"If we knew without a doubt," Harry answered, "Sam and his pack would have dealt with them already. We have no proof, but we have concerns."

"Regarding?"

Harry glanced at Jacob for a brief moment before answering. "Isabella Swan."

"She's none of ours."

"She is not of the tribe," Billy said, "but she is under our protection as a resident of the area. She falls under the treaty just as much as our own children do."

"Isabella has been removed from her father's care by the state," Harry continued. "For what reason I cannot fathom, the Cullens have legal guardianship over her. Our worry is that they plan to change her; this cannot be permitted."

"Have you spoken to them?" Jacob felt waves of anxiety flutter through him, but he spoke through the uncomfortable feeling. He was a wolf, a member of the elite. He had to get used to speaking at tribal councils.

"We have not. Sam periodically watches their house from the woods. The girl remains human for the time being."

"He's seen her?" Jake glanced at Sam, seeking direction from his pack leader, but the older man did not react.

"He has not, but he has smelled her, and heard the beat of her human heart. She lives."

"And...are you going to talk to them?"

Harry's wrinkled hand cut through the air as if to shove away Jake's question. "We do not discuss. We do not remind. The treaty stands and if it is broken, we will punish.

"But what if it's Bella's choice?" Jacob swallowed hard. He didn't like to push the issue, but he needed answers. Bella was his...friend. Or, she had been, once. His hand twitched, feeling the phantom touch of her palm against his. For a long time, he'd assumed he would marry her someday. Their fathers even joked about their eventual wedding. It was only after becoming a wolf that he realized her unsuitability as a partner. Only by marrying within the tribe would he guarantee a son to follow him into the pack.

"Her desires are irrelevant. The treaty takes precedence over all."

Jacob chewed on the inside of his mouth, forcing himself to keep still. Arguing would get him nowhere with the elders, and he could see his father casting an irritated glance his way.

For anyone else, Jake could accept this answer. For himself, his father, Sam, Emily... They were raised to understand that the voice of the council ruled in all matters. The individual bent to the will of the group. That was how they had survived so long, against such odds. Not only the Cold Ones, but the lies and greed of the white man as well. Family and tradition kept them strong.

But Bella was different.

Bella had no family. She'd admitted to him when she came to live with Charlie full-time that her mother did not want her, and now her father had been deemed unfit. Her grandparents were dead, and she had no extended family. She had no one.

Except the Cullens.

For whatever reason, Bella trusted the Cullens. She wanted to be with them.

Who was he—who was the _tribe—_ to tell her she couldn't? To threaten war because they disapproved of her choices?

Jacob made a fist, digging his blunt, ragged nails painfully into his palm. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to give up a mortal life for the bleak existence of a vampire. But if that's what Bella wanted...

...shouldn't she have that choice?

What did he, Jacob Black, owe her for all the times he kept silent? For all the comfort he never gave? He could feel the memory of her little hand in his, her silent promise to stay by his side even through the humiliation and pain. They had been siblings back then, in a way. Forced together to bear the secret of her father's brutality, told over and over that the pain was for her own good.

Jacob had let himself believe the lie when he was a child, but he couldn't anymore. He had to admit the truth, and what the truth said about him.

It said he owed her big time, and he couldn't let that debt go unpaid.

* * *

"Cake first? Presents first?" Esme exited the kitchen carrying the circular birthday cake, now decorated with white frosting and red piping to look like a baseball. She set the cake platter on the dining table and wiped her hands on a tea towel, then brought Bella gently under her arm. Bella slid her own arm around Esme's slim waist, hugging herself against her mother figure while Edward looked on, smiling.

Rosalie bounced Mason on her hip, dancing him in place. His curly hair, a product of his biological father, had darkened even further as it grew, turning nearly black. More than once members of the family exclaimed how much he looked like Emmett with those almost-black curls. Bella had searched his little face and chubby features many times, looking for evidence of herself in the son she had unwillingly borne. Though he would certainly change as he grew, right now he looked absolutely nothing like her.

She was glad.

Holding the swell of her abdomen with her free arm, she wondered, as she had often before, what her daughter would look like when she was born. Would she be a miniature of her father—flyaway red-brown hair, sharp features, pale and perfect? Bella rather hoped so. Edward was so beautiful, and she treasured him. To have a child that looked like him, reminded her of him with each glance...that would be perfect.

"Presents first, I think," Rosalie said, rolling her eyes but smiling fondly as Emmett settled an infant-sized baseball cap on Mason's head. Mason's little face scrunched up and he yanked at the offending hat until it came off, throwing the cap on the floor in a burst of pique.

"Dude, you'd much rather wear this than the birthday hats Aunt Alice bought. Trust me on this," his father said, retrieving the cap.

Alice wrinkled her nose at him. "At least mine have elastic straps to keep them in place."

"Yeah, well—"

"Here's a present," Jasper interrupted, carrying in a large box from the living room. It was wrapped, appropriately enough, in baseball-themed paper.

"Sweet!" Emmett set the box in front of Mason, who Rose had settled in his high chair at the table. Mason's blue eyes grew big and he grabbed at the box with his fat starfish hands.

"Ba ba ba!"

"Yeah, it's for you, little dude. Tear off that paper, go on." Emmett pulled at a corner, ripping the paper.

Whether Mason got the hint or was just naturally destructive, he closed his fists in the wrapping paper, delighted with the way it tore away from the box and fell into his hands. He waved the pieces up and down before dropping them to grab more. Twice he lifted handfuls of paper to his mouth, but Rose was there to distract him, gently bringing his hands down and dancing a bit of ribbon just out of his reach.

When the box was more or less unwrapped, Rose stepped forward and lifted the lid. Inside, they found a fat red plastic bat and a t-ball stand, along with a jumble of brightly colored wiffle balls.

"He's not quite there yet," Jasper said, scratching the back of his neck, "but I figured he'd grow into 'em."

"Awesome. Thanks, man." Emmett handed a blue ball to his son, who immediately tried to stick it in his mouth. "I think that's a little big for you to eat, buddy."

Mason burbled his response, drooling around the ball.

"Me now!" Alice pushed a bright blue box into Mason's line of sight, and this time he needed no urging. He grabbed for the paper, ripping a giant piece off the corner with a little grunt of satisfaction.

"Dude's gonna go into demolition when he grows up," Emmett said proudly, swiftly bending to catch the discarded wiffle ball as Mason knocked it from the tray of his high chair.

"Are you okay?" Edward murmured, drawing Bella away from Esme's arm. She let him stand behind her, circling her cumbersome belly with his arms, his touch infinitely tender. Smiling for his sake, she nodded. Mason's first birthday was not the horrifically painful event Rose and Edward feared it might be, but she felt distanced from the festivities. Like she was watching them from afar, not really part of what she saw going on around her. It wasn't something she could explain well even to herself, so she didn't try putting it into words for Edward. It was enough to feel his strong chest at her back, his arms supporting both her and her daughter, buoying them, grounding them in both space and time.

This time next year, she wondered, would she hold her daughter in her arms for Mason's second birthday? It was impossible to know. She was thirty-four weeks along, which meant that, if the pregnancy progressed normally, she had only a few more weeks to go. But Carlisle kept cautioning her that they really didn't know anything about this pregnancy. It hadn't turned out to be shorter than average, it seemed, but she could hypothetically be pregnant for months yet. No one knew what to expect. Carlisle reported that her daughter was quite small, leading to a suspicion that she might need more than the typical forty weeks to develop. No one could say with any certainty, though. There was no precedent to look to.

Still, Bella couldn't bring herself to worry. Not about this. She left the worrying to Edward and Carlisle, who were doing a fine job without her. Normally she didn't put much faith in gut feelings, but just as she'd known with her whole self that Edward would never harm her despite being a vampire, she knew her daughter was fine. Small didn't worry her—she could feel her child move inside her, and she just knew that everything was okay.

That didn't stop her from wondering when she would get to see her baby for the first time, to hold her in her arms. To hand her to Edward and see the brilliant light in his beautiful eyes when he met his daughter. She longed for it.

Which wasn't to say she didn't worry—she worried a lot. She worried about Charlie, and Frank, Mason's biological father. She worried that her social worker or lawyer might find out she was pregnant, and attempt to remove her from the Cullens' care. She worried about a lot of things; her daughter's health simply wasn't one of them.

Edward's lips brushed along her temple, and he pressed a tender kiss to her supple skin. "I love you," he murmured, a sentiment for her ears only. Still, Esme's eyes twinkled knowingly, and Jasper fought down a little smile.

"I suppose I'll go next." Carlisle handed a small package to Emmett, since Mason was engrossed in his new toy and didn't want to be interrupted. Inside the box lay a tiny brown bracelet adorned with the Cullen crest. "Couldn't have a member of the family without one." Emmett raised the little piece of jewelry to examine it and Carlisle continued, "It's plastic, not leather like the rest of you boys have—I've been around long enough to know how wet and dirty he'll be getting it." It also had a clasp like a watch, so it could be adjusted for size as he grew.

Bella felt a twinge of something strange as she watched a beaming Rosalie affix the Cullen crest to Mason's little wrist. She knew the family all wore a piece of jewelery with the crest to show that they were, indeed, a family. More than once she'd nestled in Edward's arms, dozing, tracing the lines of his leather cuff. It was a symbol of the bond all the Cullens shared, proof that no matter how angry, for instance, Rosalie and Edward became with each other, they would still always be family. They'd made a vow to each other not wholly unlike a marriage vow. This bond was something they walked into willingly, something they created together.

And it was something they had not chosen to share with her.

She shouldn't be jealous—she knew that. She could remember so many times the Cullens had proven themselves to truly be her family, to truly love her. How many hugs had she received from them all? Soothing words, soft touches. Obvious things like a roof over her head and food to eat. Edward cared so much that he had even kidnapped her to keep her safe, and the rest of the family had come all the way to Britain to spend Christmas with her, even though she didn't even want to celebrate the holiday. They had come because she asked them to. They held her when she cried, lent her support when she could not stand on her own. They were everything she needed—everything Charlie and Renee could never be. Not even Jacob, who she had always felt close to while growing up, could give her what the Cullens had.

So the crest—it was nothing, really. Or, it should have been. But Bella's stomach twisted uncomfortably and an odd, heavy sensation settled in her chest and on her shoulders. They had gifted Mason with the Cullen crest, but not her.

Abrupt, she staggered back a half step, hand rising to clutch the necklace from Esme's family, enamel and seed pearls cool against her hot skin.

"Are you all right?" Edward's lips brushed the seashell curve of her ear and a cold breath feathered her hair.

Forcing a smile, she nodded without meeting his gaze. "I think I need to step outside for a minute."

Edward's brow furrowed. "It's raining."

"Just for a minute. I'll stay close."

He exhaled slowly through his nose, then kissed her forehead softly. "Take your jacket? I'll be listening. If you need me, all you have to do is whisper."

"I will." Bella let herself sink into the firm grasp of his arms for a heartbeat before breaking free, heading for the back door. She wanted to walk in the back yard—the only outdoor space in which she felt safe—for a few minutes to clear her mind. She'd come to her senses, she was sure. Jealousy wasn't a normal emotion for her, especially of Mason. What did she have to be jealous of? She'd purposefully brought him to the Cullens. _She_ had done this. How could she possibly be jealous of a situation that was of her own doing?

Shrugging on a light coat, Bella wandered onto the porch and down the steps into sodden grass. The sky hung balefully low and dark, and she heard the patter of rain in the woods surrounding the small yard. A stream moved, sluggish with silt, near the treeline, and Bella wandered in that direction. Her canvas sneakers were almost instantly soaked, but she didn't care. When she went back in she could put on thick new socks and different shoes. She could even take a warm bath or shower if she wanted. Edward would gladly accompany her if she asked, and she could almost feel the ghost of his touch on her chilled skin, sending a rush of gooseflesh along her arms and the back of her neck...

The sudden rustle of underbrush to her left made Bella start. No, that wasn't Edward-gooseflesh she felt. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled, and she raised a hand to rub the troubled feeling. No, that wasn't the memory of Edward's touch at all.

She was being watched.

She drew a breath to call her vampire, knowing full well that he would be at her side in a heartbeat, but before she could voice the words, a form she didn't expect stepped out of the brush at the edge of the forest.

Charlie.

Her breath fled, lungs frozen.

For several seconds they simply stood there, father and daughter, staring. In a part of her mind still functioning rationally, Bella was able to note that Charlie did not look well at all. His face was sickly pale, and a scraggly beard had begun to grow where he'd neglected to shave for quite some time. His thin cheeks expanded as he blew out a breath, then hollowed again as he sucked air in. Even from several yards away, Bella could hear a distinct whistle to his inhalation.

"Go away," she mouthed, but the words weren't even a whisper. She fought for breath as her airway closed over and her body began to tremble violently. Part of her rational mind struggled for control over the panic setting in, but the fear was too strong and the reaction to Charlie too intense. She staggered back as if she'd been struck, struggling to get a good breath. No, not here. Not like this. He was supposed to stay away from her except in the courtroom, and they were months away from trial. Why was he here? What did he plan to do? Her body was frozen, no longer hers to control. Her knees shook and threatened to give way.

As if her stumble woke him, Charlie strode forward. In three strides he had reached her, and he grabbed her forearm.

"What's this?" He wheezed again, then barked out a hoarse laugh. Bella winced as saliva and sour breath hit her face. He stared at her rounded belly, and the smile that curved his thin, rough face was coldly cruel. "Another bastard? Oh, you're in for it now, little girl—"

A feral roar unlike anything Bella had ever heard from her vampire family shook the clearing, and an instant later she was thrown to her knees as Charlie's hand was ripped from her arm. She saw a blur, nothing more, and then Edward was standing over Charlie's prone body, and Alice was helping her to her feet.

"Not today, old man," Alice murmured. She touched Bella's wet cheek gently, trying to turn her head. "Best not to look, Bella..."

But the panic had broken when she was knocked down, and Bella gasped for cool, damp air and fought free of her sister's tender hands. "I n-need to s-see," she managed to stutter, stumbling forward until she was at Edward's side.

He did not attempt to shield her, but held vampire-still as she wrapped her arm around his for support and looked down at the lifeless body of her father. Charlie lay half in, half out of the water, black eyes staring vacantly up as the rain sped down. His head rested against a rock, and bursts of red bloomed into the silty stream, washed away as soon as they appeared. Silence enclosed the yard once more, save the ever-present sound of water.

Bella stared at her dead father for a long, long time. Nobody tried to stop her.

Dead.

Charlie was dead.

This wasn't how she'd hoped her final meeting with him would go, but, regardless, he would never hurt her again. Mason's placement would never be threatened, nor her own. Renee would never want her back, which meant she truly belonged to the Cullens now in a way she hadn't before—not quite. Not really. There was no one left to contest her true family—the place she belonged.

She should be elated, really. But she wasn't. Instead, she felt...numb. Just numb. She did not mourn for the life lost just now, or the child she was never allowed to be. She did not cry tears of joy for her blessings, or those of Mason and her daughter.

She just breathed.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

She stood. Endured the rain.

Her knees held her steady. Her eyes blinked, blood flowed in her veins. Her heart beat, and so did the heart of the child in her womb. Her arms cradled her belly, one above, one below. _Safe_ , she thought to the moving fetus within her. _Baby, we're safe_.

A good half-hour passed. Bella's body began to shiver with cold and perhaps a little shock, but no one urged her to go inside and warm herself. She didn't even know whether anyone but Edward was still outside with her, and she couldn't make herself turn to look. She felt rooted to the spot, to the moment. Each breath, each passing heartbeat, was a fragile, delicate thing. One jagged thought might rend the silent calm, tearing the moment to pieces.

 _I'm not ready_ , a part of Bella whispered.

 _Will I ever be ready?_ another part whispered back.

"I didn't mean to."

They stood, watching the water wash at Charlie's body. Bella's neck felt stiff as she tilted her head to rest it against Edward's shoulder. "I know."

"He was touching you, and I just reacted."

"I know."

"But I won't say I'm sorry, because I'm not."

"I know that, too." She hugged herself against his arm and inhaled deeply. His scent calmed her, as always. He was the buoy she would always reach for when demons threatened to pull her under. He was the buoy, their family the shore. What did the Cullen crest matter? She had the most important part of the family right here in her arms, in her body. Her Edward. Her daughter. Her _self_. "What happens now?"

Carlisle spoke from behind them. "We take the body elsewhere, and make it look like an accident."

Bella had no doubt they were eminently capable of this. "And then what? Do we run?"

"I don't think so. It's for the best that we stay."

"What about the wolves?"

"We neither drank nor turned him, so the treaty is technically unbroken. The wolves are firm, but fair. I cannot see them starting war over defending the lives of a man's mate and child."

"I am not a man," Edward grit out, the words full of his own self-loathing.

Carlisle's calm voice did not alter. "You are man enough to make a child and man enough to defend it. In my eyes, you are man enough that your circumstances must matter to the wolves."

Edward snorted lightly, but he held his peace. Slowly, as if his body grew stiff and sore like a human's, he turned to Bella. "Love?"

Stiff as well, cold and sore and hurting physically though emotionally she remained numb, Bella tipped her head to meet his eyes. Beautiful as always, the amber had darkened with his emotion. Inhale. Exhale. She caught his sleeve in her bare hand, aware of how white her chilled skin was—as white as Edward—and took another breath. Her daughter kicked. "Marry me, Edward."

His eyes did not lighten, but they glowed with something fierce and strong. He flipped his hand and caught hers, twining their fingers. His other hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking gently along her skin. "That," he said, voice low, "is my greatest wish, and will be my greatest joy. That is...if your father will give his blessing."

Bella did not look toward the body in the stream, even for a moment. She and Edward both turned to Carlisle, who put a hand on each of their shoulders and squeezed gently. "Both of you have been alone for far too long, waiting to find each other. There is no better happiness for a parent than to give that which brings joy. You both have my blessing, and Esme's as well. I have no doubt you were meant for each other."

"You will have a ring as soon as this...problem...is resolved," Edward vowed, glancing toward Charlie's body with distaste.

Bella merely wrapped herself around him as best she was able. She didn't care about a ring. His promise was all that mattered.

* * *

Mason's birthday party was cut short so the body in the stream could be dealt with, but nobody minded. Rosalie's eyes glittered with intense satisfaction when Bella apologized, and she told her newest sister to hush. Charlie's appearance wasn't Bella's fault, and Rose preferred the man dead anyway. She went with Edward, Jasper, Emmett, and Carlisle to dispose of the body, while Alice tended to the baby and Esme made sure that Bella fully warmed herself.

"I know this isn't what you wanted," Esme said, helping Bella dry off after a warming shower. "But don't worry—they'll make sure everything is taken care of. Even the rain works in our favor. It washes away our scent; the wolves may never question anything."

Bella doubted it would truly be that simple, but she kept her mouth shut. Voicing her thoughts to Esme wouldn't solve anything. Besides, there was always Jacob. Just how willing he would be to help her, how much he felt he owed her, she didn't know. But he had been her friend, once—or at least the closest thing she had here in Forks. That had to count for something.

"Charlie didn't look good at all," she said instead, pulling a warm fleece nightgown over her head. She sat on her bed at Esme's urging, allowing her mother to brush out her long hair. "He looked almost dead. It was weird."

"Well, with how much the man smokes and drinks, I can't say I'm surprised," Esme murmured. She brushed Bella's hair with gentle strokes. "Besides, he was outside in the cold and rain. You didn't look so good yourself when you came inside." Her voice held a slight lilt of humor, and Bella smiled.

"Yeah, I know. I get as white as Edward." She held up a hand, now warmly pink from the temperature of her shower. "Esme? Is it strange that I don't...feel anything? About Charlie?"

"No, baby. It's not strange at all. Your mind is still in shock, which is perfectly normal." Esme squeezed her shoulders and kissed her warm cheek. "Give yourself some time—days or weeks. You'll feel what you're supposed to feel, when you're supposed to feel it. There's no right or wrong, I promise you."

Bella stayed up until Edward returned. Only when his firm body was wrapped around her did she allow herself to doze, sleeping fitfully, not quite dreaming, not quite awake. Edward held her through the night, as always, and as dawn approached, he slipped his human mother's ring on her finger.

Two days later, Bella's observation about Charlie's complexion proved ominously prescient when she developed a cold. Since neither she nor Mason had contact with any other humans, the only place it could have come from was Charlie.

"I'm okay," Bella insisted, but the way she wheezed as she breathed and the rapid spike of her temperature led Carlisle to run a rapid flu test. Edward grabbed the bedpost and his eyes dulled as he heard the confirmation in Carlisle's thoughts.

Influenza—a final jab from Charlie before he died.


	47. Chapter 47

Edward stared down at the girl sleeping fitfully in the big four-poster bed. She looked so small, so fragile. His whole self latched onto each wheezing breath, each sluggish heartbeat. They were the sounds that proved to him that she still lived—that her body fought the virus sweeping through her system.

Influenza.

Even just the word chilled his unbeating heart, grabbing him at the throat, choking his unneeded breaths. The pandemic that lasted from early 1918 until 1920 killed somewhere between fifty and one hundred million people. Three of those had been his mother, his father...and himself.

Every winter he listened to the radio, then the television, warning people of outbreaks of flu. As medical science progressed, the warnings turned to ways to keep safe: frequent washing, staying away from those already infected, keeping the body as robust and healthy as possible. Year after year, lives were lost to influenza, but fewer and fewer as science evolved. Now, for the most part, only the very young, very old, and immunocompromized died. But particularly virulent strains of the virus did spring up from time to time, and Carlisle's thoughts were clear—he believed that Bella's case was serious, indeed.

Thinking back, Edward combed his perfect vampire memory for visions of Charlie just before he died. He hadn't paid any attention at the time—all he wanted was the man's hands off Bella. And after he was dead...well, he looked dead. Waterlogged and...just dead. But, reaching into his memory, Edward could now study the face of the man he so recently killed, and he agreed with Bella's assessment. Charlie had not looked good at all. His complexion was ashen and waxy, and he was perspiring far out of proportion to the physical exertion of walking through the woods. His last breaths were raspy and hoarse, just as Bella's now were.

The man's mind hadn't been a place of coherence, either. His thoughts were jumbled; confused. He had not been purposefully stalking Bella, but had lost himself while wandering aimlessly in the woods. Edward didn't know how long Charlie had been lost, because Charlie himself hadn't known. He could have been out there for days.

Carlisle could not say definitively that the flu virus would have killed Charlie, but Edward had his suspicions. The man clearly wasn't taking care of himself—not that Edward gave a rat's ass. He deserved a slower, more painful death than he received, but at least he was dead. He couldn't hurt Bella anymore.

His parting jab, however, was a cruel one.

Edward flat-out refused to go back to school, and neither Esme nor Carlisle tried to force him. He stayed by Bella's side, doing whatever she needed, pampering her as much as possible. She was too weak to protest. Carlisle tended to her every day before he left for the hospital and at night when he returned home. He kept his voice upbeat when he spoke to her, but Edward heard the fear in his thoughts, the fear he masked so well from his patient.

Bella had sickened extremely quickly, and she wasn't getting better. A deep, ragged cough settled in her chest, keeping her up when her exhausted body ached for sleep. Codeine-laced cough syrup didn't help at all. Her temperature hovered around 103, and though her skin was flushed and moist, she shivered with cold. Esme and Rose had tucked an electric blanket over her sheet and under the comforter, and Bella huddled as far under the warm covers as she could, still trembling. Edward ached to hold her, but he didn't dare. Even with layers of protection between their bodies, he couldn't bear the thought of adding to her discomfort.

And discomfort she definitely felt. Her body ached badly, and without pain medication she couldn't stand the touch of anything. "My skin hurts," she said, shifting in her bed, trying to find a position that was at least somewhat comfortable. "I can't explain it any better than that. It _hurts_."

Edward grit his teeth, the muscles in his jaw clamping down. He remembered that feeling. All he could do was give her Tylenol in regular intervals and hope.

Now, three days in, she wasn't getting any better. She was, in fact, getting worse. For the first time, she complained of nausea, and had not been able to keep down the plain wheat toast and applesauce Esme offered her. She hadn't really slept at all the night before, merely falling into a light sort of doze, muttering in her sleep and waking every time her chest forced a cough from her mouth.

Carlisle came home looking more grave than usual. "We have two patients in the hospital with bad cases of the flu," he reported in the kitchen, where Esme was heating water for tea. "I'll have to do more testing to be sure, but I suspect it's the same strain as Bella's." He leaned against the cupboards and put his palms on the countertop behind him, bending his elbows.

"Should she be in the hospital?" Esme asked, cupping a white mug in her delicate grasp. "She's so sick, Carlisle."

He nodded slowly. "I know it. But since she's still pregnant, we can't risk it. We can do quite a bit for her here—that's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

Edward grimaced. He could already hear Carlisle's answer before he spoke, and he didn't like it at all.

"An upset stomach is going to complicate things quite a bit. The child she carries needs regular sustenance—we all saw what happened on the trip home from Britain. Bella can't just stop eating. The results could be disastrous for both of them."

"I won't let it happen," Edward growled.

Carlisle sent him an understanding smile, but his thoughts and his spoken answer were clear. "Unfortunately, son, it may be out of our hands."

After Bella fell sick, Emmett and Rosalie decided to take Mason out of the house for safety's sake. They went to Alaska to visit the Denali cousins, but Rose called every day to check on Bella. Every day, Esme told her the same thing—no news, but they remained hopeful. Alice cast about for any new visions that might give her a clue to the outcome of Bella's illness, but her sight remained blocked, as it often was with Bella. Jasper comforted her as much as he could.

And they waited. They all waited.

The next day, Bella could not keep down even a sip of water. She huddled in her bed, sick and miserable, in tears because she knew how hungry her child was and, for the first time, she was unable to appease that hunger. She could not care for the fetus as it needed, which made her both emotionally distraught and physically even more uncomfortable.

Carlisle came home from the hospital with bags of nutrient-laden solution, and he hooked up an IV to Bella's arm to keep her at least moderately hydrated. He injected a painkiller into her IV as well, since she could no longer swallow pills.

"Look at her, Carlisle," Edward hissed, too low for Bella to hear. "The baby is draining her."

"It's what I feared," Carlisle agreed, watching the slow drip of the IV into Bella's arm. She was visibly thinner, and her complexion was ghostly white despite her high fever. Even her lips were pale. The child she carried needed blood. So far, it had received this from the black pudding, the blood sausage Bella ate every day. Now, with her mother unable to consume the needed blood, the baby was taking it from the only source left—Bella's own body.

"We can't let this continue very long," Carlisle warned his son, aching for the choices that would have to be made soon. "A day or two at most."

_And then what?_

The words remained unsaid, but they echoed through the room all the same.

That night, Edward carefully scooped Bella's pale, limp hand into his grasp. He held it between his two hands, the only contact he'd allowed himself for days. "Bella," he breathed. "Love, I know you're tired. You have every right to be. But I need you to fight this—fight harder. For me. For our daughter. Bella, can you hear me?"

The skin around her eyes was so dark, it looked not just bruised but also incredibly painful. Still, she blinked, and a moment later her soft eyes opened. They were hazy with fever, but they settled on Edward's form fairly steadily. Her cracked lips turned up in a pale shadow of a smile. "Edward," she breathed.

Edward swallowed hard. His chest felt so tight. He didn't know what to do. Why didn't he know what to do? He'd been alive long enough. Why couldn't he do anything to save this girl, this one human life? "Bella."

She inhaled a shallow breath, but her face screwed up in pain a moment later and a fit of deep coughs took her. She trembled violently as she lay back down, her beautiful mouth still grimacing. "Hurts."

"I know. I know, love. Just...you've just got to fight a little harder, okay? For us. We need you to get better." He lay his hand ever so gently atop her comforter, right where he could hear his daughter's heartbeat.

"I'm trying." Her eyes lost focus, and she blinked hard several times. "Trying, Edward."

Fighting back a growl of impatience with his own impotence in the situation, Edward bent and kissed the back of her hand. Her skin felt fragile as rice paper against his lips. He could hear the sluggish beat of her overworked heart, struggling to pump blood through her body even as the child in her womb consumed the life-giving liquid. "I know you are," he whispered, but even as he spoke, he knew it wasn't going to be enough.

* * *

By ten o'clock the next morning, Bella was babbling incoherently, and Edward could no longer say from one minute to the next whether she was asleep or delusional. Certainly she was not lucid. He stroked her sweaty hair, kissed her forehead tenderly, and left to find Carlisle in his office.

"What are our options?" he asked without preamble, not bothering to close the door behind him. Only Esme remained in the house, and he didn't care what she heard. She should probably be part of this discussion as well, but Edward was too set on his questions to wait.

Carlisle looked up from the medical journal he'd been reading, setting it aside. He leaned back in his desk chair and tented his fingers, tapping them slowly against his lips. "I've been giving that question a great deal of thought."

"And?"

"Here's the dilemma as I see it. Ordinarily, the easy answer would be to change Bella. Then there would no longer be any worry about her body's ability to fight off this virus. But we cannot change her while she carries a child. I haven't the slightest idea what would happen, and it wouldn't be ethical to attempt it."

"No." Edward shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"And, in my medical opinion, it's no longer safe to wait and see what her body does on its own. Her systems are shutting down; you must see that."

Edward nodded slowly. He did not want to admit it, but he saw what Carlisle meant. Bella's body had just been through too much. When you added the hybrid baby on top of everything else, she wasn't going to be able to fight this off.

"Which leaves us with only one option I can see. I think, given the severity of Bella's illness, we need to deliver the child _now_. That will be a great stress lifted from her body, after which we'll see whether she can safely remain human a while longer, or whether turning her immediately is necessary."

Edward blanched. "We don't know how well developed the baby is," he argued. "For all we know, she might not be viable yet."

Carlisle held his hands out, palm up, in a gesture of defeat. "Do you see another option?"

As much as Edward hated and feared Carlisle's recommendation, he had to admit that he had nothing better to offer. Slowly he sank back in the soft brown leather chair, letting the reality of the situation wash over him. Bella was too sick to last much longer, so they would be forced to deliver the child via Caesarean section, regardless of its health or viability. Then, depending on Bella's remaining strength, she might be immediately turned, or allowed to remain human a little longer.

For his part, Edward preferred that she remain human as long as possible. If she could fight off the influenza virus without the baby leeching all her strength, so much the better. But he would not— _would not—_ let her die from this illness. She would die by his hand, born into a new existence as a vampire, or not at all.

"When do we do this?"

Carlisle studied his face for a long moment, as if searching for any remaining doubt. Then, "As soon as possible. Best to tell Bella while I make a quick trip to the hospital."

"What about the state? Heidi and Leia and all that?"

Carlisle rose and slowly donned his coat. "If necessary, I can make it seem she died of the flu. Or we can all just disappear. You think about it." And he was gone.

* * *

Thankfully, Bella was in a relatively lucid state when Edward returned to her. Explaining Carlisle's wish was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, but Edward forced himself through it. This was Bella's body, after all. Carlisle could say whatever he wanted, but Bella had to agree. She called the shots. She made the rules.

Her eyes dulled when she heard the plan, and she bit her pale lower lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered, voice rough from coughing. "I tried so hard to take care of her..."

"You've done a wonderful job, sweetheart," he assured her, touching her cheek feather-light with his fingertips. "It's not your fault that Charlie gave you this virus. Both things at once are just too much right now. Since we can't make the virus go away immediately, we need to get the baby out. Then you can focus on feeling better." He left the part about turning her unspoken, though he knew her quick mind would grasp what he wasn't saying. She would not die of influenza, whether her body recovered or Edward changed her.

"Will you take her away from me?" Bella asked in a small voice, hugging her belly with weak arms.

"Shh, no. No, love." Edward hastened to soothe her fears. "Unless she has to go to the hospital with Carlisle for some reason, she'll stay right here with you."

"I won't infect her?"

"No. She's probably already developed antibodies from being inside you while you're ill, and a breastfeeding baby is often the only one in a human household that doesn't get sick. She'll be fine. No one will take her away from you." He stroked her hair, watching her soft brown eyes as she processed this information.

"Will I be awake for it?"

Edward continued threading his fingers through her long, dark hair, soothed by the touch of her, even through the bitter scent of her illness. "That's a good question. Usually the answer is yes, but you'll have to ask Carlisle for sure. Why? Do you have a preference?"

Bella chewed on her lower lip and fought back a coughing fit before answering. "I think I want to be awake," she whispered finally. "I'm afraid, but I'm more afraid of going to sleep and not waking up."

"Never," Edward vowed. "Bella, I'd never let that happen. I promise you."

* * *

And so, two and a half hours later, Carlisle lifted a four-pound baby girl from the incision in Bella's abdomen, placing her tiny, squirming body in Edward's outstretched hands. Esme watched from the sidelines, holding a video camera that was probably filming the floor at the moment, as she wasn't paying attention to anything but the child in Edward's arms.

"Bella," she breathed. "Bella, she's beautiful!"

Carlisle, working swiftly, had already removed the placenta and was closing the incision even as Edward brought the baby around the drape hiding Bella's abdomen from her eyes, laying his daughter on her mother's chest.

"Here she is, Bella," he breathed, kneeling next to the bed. "Here's your little girl."

Tears welled in Bella's eyes, and for the first time she could remember, she did not attempt to hold them back. A cough tore through her, a bark of fiery pain in her throat, and she turned her head swiftly so she didn't breathe on the elfin little fairy on her chest. The child cried with short, cranky little squawks, her hands balled into fists, signaling her dislike of this bright, cold new world. Edward bathed her with warm, damp cloths as she squirmed on Bella's chest, wiping away the blood and effluvia from her birth.

"I was right," Bella whispered, blinking at him with wet eyes.

"I never doubted you." He kissed her temple gently, keeping his hands where he could spot the newborn lest she squirm the wrong way and start to fall.

"Is she healthy?"

"Seems to be," Carlisle answered. He warmed his hands at a portable space heater in the corner of the room, then took the newborn in his arms. "Let's just have a look." He listened to her heart and lungs with his acute vampire hearing, and looked into her eyes. The tension in the room increased until he wrapped the little one in a soft pink blanket and handed her back to Edward. "Relax now," he said, helping Bella into a more upright position. "I don't see anything wrong, other than her size. Here, sweetheart. Hold your baby."

When Edward passed the child back to Bella, the angry squawks calmed. She looked up at her mother with wide, unfocused eyes, and Bella stared right back. Her arms trembled, but Edward felt no fear that she would drop the baby. The fierce light shining in her brown eyes told him that Bella would never let any harm come to their daughter—never.

"She has your eyes." He smiled at his fiance, watching her mouth curve into a smile of its own. "She's so beautiful, Bella."

Bella nodded. "I think we did pretty good." Her shoulders shook and she turned her head away to cough again.

"I know it's difficult, but try not to cough, please," Carlisle said fidgeting with the incision one more time before gently replacing Bella's blankets on top of her. "It's not good for the wound."

Bella didn't answer, lost in her daughter's bright brown eyes.

"What's her name?" Esme asked, lifting the camera to film again.

"Esme," Bella said firmly.

Edward and Carlisle glanced at each other. "Are you sure?" The doctor gathered his bloodied instruments to clean back in his office. "That's very sweet, but we already have an Esme. Won't that get confusing?"

"Bella gets to choose." Edward's voice was hard as he watched his father. "She's in charge."

"It's a lovely sentiment." Esme perched on the edge of the bed and brushed one finger gently over a tiny fist. "But my name's a bit old-fashioned. Maybe she should have something more current?"

"I want her to have a family name," Bella said, "and you're the only mother I've ever really had." She thought for a long minute, and her face slowly drew into a smile. "Ellison. Esme Ellison."

"Swan?"

Bella's face contorted, and she shook her head. "That's Charlie's name, and I don't want any part of it. She's a Cullen." She looked up, searching for reassurance in Edward's face. "Right, Edward? She's a Cullen."

"Of course she's a Cullen." He squeezed her shoulder gently. "You both are. Esme Ellison Cullen it is."

* * *

An hour later, Ellie was fussing in Alice's arms. Carlisle had put something in Bella's IV to make her sleep—something she desperately needed but the persistent cough wouldn't allow her. Ellie had fed willingly enough at her mother's breast, but now she squalled her angry little bird cry as Alice tried to soothe her.

"She doesn't like me,." Alice pouted, but refused to hand over the newborn.

"I think she's just overwhelmed. Give her time." Esme snapped a few more pictures before setting her camera aside.

Edward fought back a smile. Ellie's thoughts were still a fascinating, muddled mess, but he could tell well enough what she wanted. She wanted her mother. She knew the sound and smell of Bella's body, and she gleaned deep comfort from having her mother near. No one else would do right now; she wanted what she wanted.

Edward knew the feeling. _You and me both, my love_ , he thought back to his newborn daughter. In another few minutes he would take her back upstairs, where she could rest next to Bella. He'd watch over them, make sure they were both safe. An intense, overwhelming feeling of completeness filled the empty hole that he'd lived with for so long. Yes, Bella was still very ill, and it remained to be seen whether she could fight this off and remain human. But Ellie was delivered safely, and while she was extremely small, she seemed to have suffered no ill effects from her early birth. Small they could deal with. She would grow.

"Edward, she's so beautiful." Alice beamed down at the cranky little face in his arms. "I can't believe you and Bella managed to make a real redhead!"

It was true—somehow, despite Bella's dark hair and his own reddish brown, Ellie's fine, flyaway wisps were truly red. "It's a recessive trait," he said, smiling as he reclaimed his tiny daughter from Alice. "Must be hiding in both our genes."

She _was_ beautiful, and Edward didn't think that was his own fatherly bias talking. Her skin was fine porcelain, with pale, delicate pink along her nose and ears. Her full little lips were darker rose, long lashes and petite eyebrows as red as her hair. She was so small, at just four pounds, that she fit curled up in his hands. So tiny, so fragile. It took everything in him to be brave and handle her despite his immense strength, and yet he paradoxically yearned for her slight little body when his sister or mother held her. Barely an hour old, and she already had him by the heartstrings.

"How is Bella?" he asked his father as Carlisle came down the stairs.

"Sleeping quietly—which she desperately needs. I'm thinking about giving her a unit of blood to see if that helps at all. What with Ellie's needs before she was born, and the slight blood loss during the Caesarean, it might do her good."

"Anything to help her." Edward held his daughter against his shoulder and kissed her head softly. To him, she smelled a lot like Bella, whereas Mason didn't at all. Whether that would change as she grew remained to be seen. He breathed in, comforted by her soft baby scent. She stopped crying her baby bird cry when she heard him, comforted by his voice. He wasn't Bella, but he would do. Hiding a smile, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, rocking her softly.

"Rose and Emmett say congratulations." Esme smiled down at her phone. "I'll leave off Emmett's comments about Ellie's appearance. They're eager to meet her once Bella's feeling better."

 _One way or another_.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh my fucking God. Yes, dear readers, we made it. After three and a half long years, this is the last regular chapter! I can't tell you how much this journey has meant to me. There were times along the way I thought we'd never get here. I don't blame anyone for giving up on me - I almost gave up on myself so, so many times.
> 
> After this there will be two short-ish epilogues, wrapping up loose ends and giving a little peek into the future. Once those are done, this story will be marked complete. Over the next couple of weeks I will be going through the chapters and cleaning things up (typos, etc). It will then be posted at The Writers Coffee Shop and Archive Of Our Own, and I'll also be making a .pdf so anyone who wants to download it can do so easily. I have no intentions of pulling this. It will remain here indefinitely.
> 
> This story is dedicated to my UK Consultant and one of the best people on earth: hev99. She's been with me almost from the beginning, and I couldn't love her more if I tried.
> 
> All standard disclaimers apply.

Bella yawned, rolling to her side in her bed in the Cullen house. She wasn't sure how she felt, exactly, about not being pregnant anymore. On the one hand, it felt wonderful to be able to move her body in ways she hadn't in months. On the other, it was unnerving to put her hand to her belly, expecting to find the swollen swell of her daughter under her skin, only to feel the mild pain of her sutured incision.

It helped that Edward had kept his promise, letting her keep Ellie by her side more often than not. She knew he brought the baby downstairs for the rest of the family to fuss over while she slept, but she didn't mind as long as Ellie was there when she woke up.

A gorgeous wooden cradle had appeared next to her bed soon after Ellie's birth, the headboard decorated with an ornate carving of the Cullen crest, the inside filled with soft white and lilac bedding. Edward told her it was a gift from Esme and Carlisle, but Bella didn't need his words. She could tell just from looking—it was exactly the sort of thing they would delight in giving the new member of the family. The carved crest was all Carlisle, and the exquisite bedding just had to be Esme's doing. She was beyond grateful for the outpouring of love and support from her family, but Ellie hadn't spent much time in her little cradle in the two days since her birth. She slept either next to her mother in the big bed or on Bella's chest, which Edward didn't like at all. Bella's illness hadn't gone away, and he didn't like the idea of any pressure on her chest at all—even the measly four pounds that Ellie weighed.

Bella didn't really care what Edward thought. Not about this. She was too sick to do much, but she _needed_ her daughter near.

Would she always feel like this, she wondered? This intense desire for the daughter she'd borne? Would she always wake and immediately seek the tiny bulk of that little body, before anything else? Would love and fear always wrestle for dominance in her heart?

Ellie was her secondborn, but her experience with Mason had absolutely not prepared her for this. Mason was taken from her directly after birth—she had glimpsed him only for a moment, funny-colored, still covered with birth fluids. She had not borne him by choice and, though she worried about his well-being and felt a great deal of responsibility, she did not feel the draw, the intense love, she felt for this new baby.

"Don't feel guilty," Esme had told her earlier in the day, stroking her hair as Bella held Ellie. Under Edward's orders she was not to hold the child unless a member of the family was there to spot her—something she chose not to argue, because she could see for herself how her arms shook with even that tiny weight. So Esme sat on the bed next to her and they cooed over Ellie's little fingers and toes, her fair little eyebrows and sweet little rosebud mouth. "Don't let guilt take away this time you have with your daughter. There are so many reasons why you couldn't have this with Mason. It's not your fault, and he now has loving parents who would do anything for him. Go ahead, Bella. It's okay to love your baby."

And love her Bella did. She'd had no idea—no fucking clue—what it would feel like until it really happened. Her thoughts before the birth were all of trepidation, worry that she would screw up this monumental task of raising a child. She'd comforted herself by saying that the Cullens would make up for anything she did wrong, anything she lacked as a mother. Now, though...everything was different. This wasn't a gift she had given Edward, but a gift for _herself_. She loved her little girl fiercely, fully, and instantly. Ellie wasn't just Edward's daughter in her mind—she was hers. _Hers_. That Edward was her father only made everything that much better.

The rest of the family yearned for more time to snuggle and play with little Ellie and Bella knew that, but she just couldn't bring herself to pass her into other arms...except Edward's, and even that wrenched at her gut, though she forced herself to do it. The others seemed to understand, or at least to accept it. They didn't push—not even Alice. Gratefulness flooded Bella. She needed this time—time alone with her thoughts, and her daughter. Time when it was just her, Ellie, and Edward. Time to think. Time to start to heal.

Charlie was dead. Bella still felt strangely empty and numb when she thought of her father—emotionless. She didn't understand it, but she kept faith in Esme's belief that the emotions would come in time. She would feel what she was supposed to feel, when she was supposed to feel it. Until then, just knowing that he could never hurt her again was a great relief. Yes, she'd been protected from him for six months or so now, but knowing that he was absolutely gone, never to return, eased tension in her body and mind that nothing else could thaw. He wasn't just held at bay by an order of protection or Edward's incredible strength. He was _gone_. Mason had never been in the same room with him except during his birth, and Ellie, her precious Ellie, had never shared even a _planet_ with him. Not one moment of her life was lived in a world where the danger of Charles Swan lurked and prowled. That one fact gave Bella real, true joy.

Ellie fussed, crying her little baby-bird squawk, pulling Bella from her thoughts. Smiling at the little girl lying beside her in the bed, Bella smoothed a soft fingertip down her tiny forehead and nose, tracing the midline of her sweet face. The baby twisted with jerky little movements, waving her hands, kicking her bowed little legs. Bella didn't need Edward to tell her what she was thinking—she was hungry.

Careful not to pull at the stitches in her abdomen, Bella carefully rolled onto her side and unbuttoned the front of her nightgown, shivering as the air hit her feverish skin. Carlisle had given her a unit of blood through her IV yesterday which made her feel much better, but she was still sick and uncomfortable. Forcing down a cough, she situated herself on the bed so she didn't have to hold the baby up, then drew Ellie to her. Ellie latched on and suckled for a moment, but almost immediately turned her head away. She rooted, definitely looking for something, but her mother's milk definitely wasn't it.

Frowning, Bella rubbed her daughter's back slowly. "That's not what you want? Guess not, huh? What can I do, baby?"

Ellie continued to search, bleating piteously, refusing to settle for breast milk.

"Okay, I'm totally leaking now, which is kind of...weird. Baby, c'mon. Can you give me a clue? We're a team here, you and me."

A coughing fit came on that refused to be suppressed, and Bella grimaced at the intense pain in her throat. It felt like she was coughing her poor throat to shreds, like there wouldn't be anything left by the time she got well. Trying to swallow was agony, but coughing felt so, so much worse. Unfortunately it wasn't something she could control, and even the strongest antitussive Carlisle brought her did next to nothing.

Swallowing back the physical pain, Bella kissed her daughter's warm little head, breathing in her comforting baby scent. She thought hard—Ellie didn't need a diaper change, because Edward was always on the ball about that. She'd just woken up about fifteen minutes ago, so she probably wasn't sleepy again quite yet. Was she just plain cranky? Was she turning colicky? Was it even possibly for a two-day-old half-vampire newborn to get colic?

No. Bella's ears were honed in on her baby's cries, and even after just two days, something inside her told her that this was a cry of hunger. Ellie was clearly searching for something, but she didn't want breast milk.

"I wish I knew what you wanted." Bella stroked her daughter's little wisps of hair. The site of her IV line, now just a little pinprick scab with some bruising around it, ached at the movement. She did her best to ignore it. At least she didn't have that tube running into her body anymore. Carlisle had removed it right after he gave her that unit of—

" _Oh_." Bella barked a short, sharp laugh that hurt almost as much as a cough. "I'm an idiot. Wait right here, baby." Double-checking that Ellie was well away from the edge of the bed, Bella eased herself upright.

She could go to the ensuite bathroom by herself by edging along the wall, using it to steady herself when necessary. Edward had not liked allowing this, but she absolutely refused to have anyone waiting on her while she took care of her human needs, and eventually he reluctantly backed down. Now she limped very slowly to her toiletry cabinet, and fished out a pair of sharp little cuticle scissors.

Bella had to stop on the way back to bed for a coughing fit to pass, and she was exhausted by the time she curled back up with Ellie. She could feel how hard her heart was working, pounding at her ribs, and she silently apologized to it for all the difficulty it had been through lately. Holding the scissors open with her right hand, she brought them to her left and made a quick slice along the pad of her index finger.

Ellie zoned in on the smell of blood immediately, whimpering with want, and Bella tossed the scissors to the nightstand before easing her fingertip into her daughter's mouth. Her baby latched on immediately, sucking with single-minded intensity, and Bella felt the trouble in her own mind ease. This was what Ellie had needed. "There," she said, smiling as she watched her daughter drink. "There, see? It just took me a minute to figure it out is all. We're fine."

Without a warning sound the door of her bedroom flew open, admitting a panic-stricken Edward. "Bella! I smell blood. How did you hurt—"

"Shh. Ellie's eating." Bella settled herself more comfortably in bed, trying to find a position where not too much of her had to be out in the cold air at once. The electric blanket was a godsend. "Oh—did I bother Jasper? I'm sorry." She bit her lip, looking repentant. "Ellie was hungry."

"Ellie was..." Edward stepped closer to the bed, only then realizing what Bella had done. "You—what on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Feeding my daughter."

"But..."

Bella wrinkled her nose at him. "But what? She's hungry."

Edward opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Bella felt slight amusement at having rendered her lover speechless, but she also understood his dilemma. He didn't like the thought of her having to hurt herself in order to feed her child.

Edward closed his mouth and swallowed, his Adam's apple moving. He breathed in, then out again—things he didn't have to do. Stress brought out the human reactions—physical memories from a time when his body was just like hers.

"It's not...normal. That's not normal, Bella."

"For a human baby, no. But Ellie's half vampire. Or did you forget all the congealed blood I was eating the past eight months? Because I sure haven't." She winced as another cough tore through her.

"But you...there's...Carlisle!"

His last word was a call, and Carlisle entered the room a moment later. He took in Bella's reclined position, her finger in Ellie's mouth, and the distinct smell of blood with much more calm than Edward had.

"I'd wondered whether she would continue needing blood."

"Is that all you can say?" Edward demanded. "Tell her to stop!"

Carlisle eyed him carefully. "Why?"

"Because this can't be right!"

"Why not? A newborn child needs sustenance, which usually comes from the mother. If Bella doesn't mind, which she clearly doesn't, then what's your concern?"

"She was taking too much blood as a fetus," Edward argued. "How will that be any different now?"

Carlisle seemed to think on this for several moments. "It's a reasonable worry, I suppose. But look—Bella's body is not doing nearly as much work supporting the child now. Ellison's own heart is circulating her own blood, her own lungs supplying her oxygen. Bella, by feeding either milk or blood, is providing the nutrition she needs to grow. It's certainly a lot, but it's not the same as being pregnant. For now, as long as we can keep Bella fed so her body can take care of itself, I don't foresee a problem. This is obviously not a long-term solution, but neither is breastfeeding. Eventually a child's body needs more than the mother's can provide. Then we'll have to find a new source of blood as well as human nutrition for the little one."

Ellie blinked rapturously, Bella's finger still in her mouth. Bella smiled and stroked her daughter's hair.

Edward did not look appeased, but he remained quiet. After a moment, Bella spoke. "Edward, I know you don't like it, but Ellie's not fully human. She's half vampire, too. I don't care what she is—she's perfect. And I won't deny her what she needs."

He exhaled deeply, and she watched as the fight went out of him. Truly, she knew he felt the same as she—he adored this fey little creature they'd created, and he'd do anything for her. The way he held her, so heartbreakingly gentle despite his incredible strength, spoke in ways words never could. But he loathed reminders of his own inhuman nature—not the least the echo of it reflected in his daughter.

"Huh." The side of Bella's mouth quirked up in an ironic smile.

"What?"

"I was just thinking. You want so much to be human. You think you're inhuman. But that word, it has two meanings. And no, you're not human anymore, but you're not _inhuman_ , you know? You're not a monster. You and your family—you're the furthest thing from cruel I've ever met. Charlie and Frank, they're the real monsters, no matter how human they are. _Were._ " She dropped her head and cooed at her daughter. "You'll never have to worry about monsters like them, you sweet little thing. You have a daddy to protect you. He loves you so much, and he won't let anyone with mean thoughts get anywhere near you."

"No way in hell," Edward agreed in a low growl. "She's _never_ dating. We haven't discussed this before, Bella, but she's not dating. Ever."

Bella chuckled. "We'll see."

A knock at the front door of the house surprised everyone. A second later, Edward made a face. "It's Jacob Black."

Bella blinked. "What does he want?" Her free arm curled protectively around her daughter purely by instinct. She didn't truly believe Jacob was dangerous, but she couldn't help it.

Carlisle touched her head lightly with a comforting, fatherly hand. "Let's go find out, shall we? Edward?"

"Be polite," Bella warned. "He was my friend for a long time."

Edward grimaced. "I'll try." With a last, worried glance, he was gone.

Downstairs, Esme was just opening the door and letting Jacob in. Jasper stood back warily, his thoughts open to his brother. Through him, Edward knew that Jacob was upset and didn't really want to be there. He delved into the werewolf's thoughts without compunction, searching for the reason for the visit. Jacob's mind was jumbled with various concerns—about the wolves, the tribe, Charlie...many things.

"Look, I don't want to make trouble," Jacob said, rubbing his palms together. His nose wrinkled slightly, but it was enough for Edward to notice. They didn't smell appealing to Jacob? Well, he didn't smell good to them, either. "I just want to talk to Bella."

"No." Edward crossed his hands over his chest and stood tall next to his brother, creating as intimidating a wall as possible.

Jacob ignored him, speaking instead to Esme and Carlisle. "It's...kind of serious. I just need to tell her something, and then I'll go."

"Bella is extremely ill and you're not getting anywhere near her," Edward said, pushing forward.

At that, Jacob bristled. "Did you bite her? Is that why she's 'sick'?" He made air quotes around the word. "Because the tribe won't stand for that. The treaty—"

"Bella has not been bitten." Carlisle stepped slightly between the two young men, his voice calm as always. "We're well aware of what the treaty says. She is, in fact, quite ill with a bad strain of the flu right now."

"The flu isn't that bad. Really, this is important."

Carlisle shared a glance with Esme, then turned to Edward.

"Don't you _dare_ ," Edward snapped. "Ellison's up there."

"What's an Ellison?"

"None of your fucking business!"

"Edward." Carlisle's light rebuke met with no verbal complaint, but Edward looked anything but compliant. His entire body tensed for a fight, and his eyes remained locked on Jacob. "I apologize, Mr. Black. Things are...delicate right now, as you can see. We can assure you that Bella is still very much alive and human at the moment, but her illness is extremely serious." He shared another glance with Esme. "To be perfectly honest...we're not really sure yet if she'll pull through. And, if the choice put before her is death or change, she has already expressed her wish to be changed. It's not something I take lightly at all, but that child is my daughter now, and I will do everything I can to save her."

Jacob was already shaking his head. "No—no, you can't. The council met about this. They've been watching the house. They know Bella's alive right now, but they don't trust you. If you turn her the treaty is null and void, they said. It'll be a declaration of war."

"I'm well aware that wolves have been around the house. We haven't done anything wrong, so there was no reason to stir up trouble about it." Carlisle adjusted how the cuff of his sweater lay against his wrist, choosing his words carefully. "Right now, the only way we would change Bella is if death can no longer be staved off. I can promise you that."

"I don't think that's enough. They're already suspicious, and they're worked up because Charlie's gone missing, too." His eyes narrowed. "Know anything about that?"

The lie flowed smoothly from Carlisle's tongue—centuries of practice at work. "I know what the state police told me when they came to give us the news and ask if we knew anything. They said no one has seen him for several days, and when they checked his house he wasn't there."

Jacob stared at the Cullen patriarch for a long moment. "No," he said finally. "No, I need to hear it from Bella. Her life's fucked up enough already, okay? She doesn't need you messing with her any more, and she definitely doesn't need to become some bloodsucker. Let me talk to her. You can't keep me away."

"Actually, I can," Carlisle said reasonably. "It's my house."

"I thought you had pretty good ears," Jasper chimed in, trying to smooth things over in his own way. "Can't you hear her heart beating upstairs? She's happy—other than being sick. She's fine."

Jacob stilled, head cocked to the side in a listening pose. He looked like a confused puppy. "I hear...two heartbeats. Who else do you have up there? Did you kidnap Charlie?" He pushed forward, trying to duck around Edward, who sank into a light crouch and growled low in his throat—low but loud. Jacob growled back.

"Edward," Carlisle said softly. "I understand how you feel, but the time for hiding this is past, I think. Best to let Bella talk to him. He doesn't trust us."

"Damn right I don't." Jacob darted around Edward; he would never have got past without Carlisle's words. Edward followed directly behind, both bolting up the stairs in the direction of the warm, soft heartbeats.

Jacob stopped two steps into Bella's bedroom. His knees quivered and gave out as all the breath left his body. He fell heavily to his knees, shaking the room.

Bella gasped, pulling Ellie tightly to her chest. "Edward! What—did you hurt him?"

"I didn't touch him!"

Edward circled Jacob's still form, coming to stand warily at the end of the bed. He stared at the werewolf on his knees in a vampire household. "Black! Get up. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh!" Bella clutched Ellie tighter, velvet eyes widening. "Edward, stop. Is he—" A fit of coughing took her, and her arms shook. Edward darted close and took the baby, cradling her against his shoulder. Jacob's eyes moved with the child, staring at her with an expression of rapturous awe.

"Don't gape at my kid like that. It's creepy, even for a dog." Edward took a deliberate step backward, eyes dark and thunderous, hand splayed over Ellie's tiny back, almost hiding her completely from Jacob's sight.

"Let me see." Jacob staggered to his feet and stepped forward, eyes intent on the child in Edward's arms. "Let me see her."

"Back the fuck up, Black, or you'll be sorry. I don't care about any treaty when my daughter's at stake." Edward planted his feet and remained where he was, but his eyes burned dark yellow and his low, warning growl rumbled through the room.

"Edward, stop." Bella struggled to move, pushing the blankets down her legs. "You're scaring her." She threw her feet over the side of the bed.

"Bella, stay out of the way." It wasn't a request.

"No! You both are acting like children. I won't let you hurt each other or scare Ellie. Calm down!"

No one else in the family had followed them upstairs—clearly they felt this was Edward's battle, and they knew he wouldn't appreciate more people butting in. Bella forced herself to her feet, unsure of the look on Jacob's face. She'd never seen him look like that before. Almost like someone had punched him in the gut, but—

"Let me see her." Jacob's voice broke. "Let me see her!"

"Why the hell does it matter to you?" Edward hugged his daughter close to his shoulder, protecting her with his big hands. She whimpered her dislike of the loud, angry voices.

"Edward, just let him see." Bella walked unsteadily toward her vampire, holding onto the bed with one hand. Her head swam, and it was difficult to keep upright. "Jake, don't get any closer. Please." When she reached the foot of the bed, she grabbed the sturdy wooden post and hung on it, touching Edward's arm with her other hand. "Edward. Go on. He won't move."

"Why should I?"

"Just...please?" Bella felt her entire body tremble. This fight was the last thing she needed right now, but something about the tension in the air told her this moment was extremely important. "Edward."

The muscles in his jaw tightened, and Bella could see how much he did not want to do this. But for her sake, not Jake's, he shifted his grip on his daughter and slowly turned her around.

Jacob stared. His big, burly body shook like a leaf in the wind, and he almost fell again. He swallowed hard, once, twice, shallow breaths panting softly in the silent room. Ellie whimpered again and wiggled in her father's grip. She didn't take any notice of the stranger in the room, but she didn't like how Edward was holding her. She much preferred to be anchored against someone's body, not held away with only hands to support her, no matter how large and strong they were.

Without warning, Jacob took a step forward.

Edward's growl burst from his chest again, loud and dangerous. He brought Ellie back to his shoulder, calming her cries. "I won't warn you again." His voice was low, his body sinuous, poised to defend his family.

Jacob paid no attention to the warning signs. His black eyes glowed, his face almost feverish. "Give her to me. Let me hold her. I need—"

"Like hell I will," Edward snapped. "Bella, get back. I don't want you getting hurt."

"No one's getting hurt here." She flicked her eyes between the two men, wondering which was more dangerous at the moment. Edward would not attack without provocation, but Jake wasn't taking the vampire's threats seriously. It was like he ignored everything Edward said. The only thing that mattered to him was Ellie, for some reason she couldn't comprehend.

"Jake, what's this about? Why do you want to hold my daughter?" He'd never seemed terribly into babies before, as far as she knew. The protective part of herself felt much like Edward did—there was absolutely no reason for Jacob to be so obsessed with her newborn daughter. But she didn't fear Jake; didn't seem his as a threat, which Edward obviously did.

"She's mine." Jacob managed to force the words out of his mouth, though it was clearly a struggle. "Those eyes—the moment I saw. She's my future. My _intended_. I want to see her. Give her to me!"

The strangled quality of his words and the feverish look of his face finally clicked in Bella's mind. She'd never seen such a thing in Jacob before, but she'd seen something very, very similar.

From Edward.

"Like hell she's yours!" Edward growled.

"Edward, stop," Bella whispered, her eyes wide. She tugged at his sleeve. "He's not going to hurt her. She's his—his _mate_."

"Imprint," Jacob managed to say, his voice hoarse. He swallowed hard. "We call it imprinting. She's mine..."

"She's _mine_!" Edward snapped back. "She's my daughter, and she's two fucking days old! What kind of sick bastard are you?"

"Edward, please." Bella held her hand out. "Come sit, and stop yelling. It's not Jake's fault."

"The hell it isn't. If he thinks for one second that I'm going to let—"

" _Edward_." Bella was sickly pale, her eyes standing out stark against her hollow face. "Please. I don't have the energy to argue with you."

He came to her, then, unwilling to keep her standing when she was still so sick, still holding his daughter firm against his shoulder. Ellie fussed for a moment but desisted when Bella ran a finger softly over her cheek.

"How did—is she yours?" Jacob breathed. He sank all the way to the floor, sitting cross-legged, staring at the child in Edward's arms.

Bella nodded, managing to give him a weak smile now that a fight seemed less likely. "Unplanned. We didn't think it was possible, and Carlisle delivered her early because I've been so sick, but she's here and she's healthy." She paused. "Her name's Esme Ellison. We call her Ellie," she offered.

"She doesn't smell like _him_."

"I think she does, a little. But I like it." Bella caught the miniscule hand Ellie waved in her direction.

"I want to hold her."

The low growl rumbling in Edward's chest exploded in a furious roar, upsetting Ellie, who cried her dislike of the loud noise. Bella looked back and forth between a yearning Jacob and an irate Edward, knowing the rest of the family would step in if she called, but feeling that this was something she had to handle herself. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't have the heart to deny Jake when he looked so lost, but Edward's growl had not ceased, only lessening in volume as he tried to calm his daughter. She could ask him to be polite to Jacob, but this? No. It was just too much to ask of him right now.

"I'm sorry, Jake," she said finally, and her heart wrenched cruelly as she saw his face fall. "I understand how you feel, but...it's just not a good time." She struggled to repress another coughing fit for a moment, then gave up and struggled through it. Her forehead pricked with perspiration when she finally sank back, exhausted.

"You can't keep me away from her!"

"I can." She bit her lip, wishing she wasn't in the middle of this, wishing that she and her daughter could just rest peacefully. But like it or not, she was the lynchpin. Without her, Edward and Jacob were just two enemies with no reason not to fly at each other, claws and teeth bared. "I'm sorry, but she's my baby. I'm responsible for her. You—I always thought of you as a friend, you know? We grew up together. But that's just it. We saw and heard and experienced the same things. You knew exactly what I went through, but you never spoke out. I get that you were just a kid and you couldn't physically fight Charlie, but you didn't do anything else, either. You never told anyone. You never even told me you felt bad about what happened. I always comforted you after your dad spanked you or yelled, but you never did the same for me." She smiled, but there was no happiness in the gesture. "I have to look out for Ellie now. I have to be so, so careful that I never become the sort of parent that mine were, and I also have to be careful about the people in her life. How do I know you didn't internalize that stuff from Charlie and your dad? How can I be sure you'll never lash out, even accidentally?"

"Because she's mine," Jacob whispered.

"That didn't stop Charlie, or your dad. For that matter, it didn't stop Sam. I've seen Emily's face. I don't know how it happened, but it doesn't matter. I'm not letting it happen to Ellie. This has to stop somewhere, and I'm choosing to stop it here, with our generation. I _won't_ pass it down to the next."

"You can't keep me away from her! She's my imprint!"

"And right now she's _two days old_." Bella sucked in a wheezy breath. "She's no use to you as an infant. When she's older—we can talk then."

"It doesn't matter how old she is," Jake protested. "I'll be whatever she needs me to be."

"I know you'd try." Bella swallowed past an extremely painful lump in her throat. Telling Jacob no was killing her inside, but it had to be done. For Ellie's sake. For Edward's. For her own. "But the thing is...she's got a very large and loving family right here, and more in Alaska. She doesn't _need_ anything from you." Plus, Edward wouldn't stand for it. And Bella, she needed some space. Time and distance from the reminders of her childhood, of the pain Charlie put her through. Jake didn't mean any harm, but he was one of those reminders, and she just couldn't have him constantly around. She needed to think of herself and her family first.

Jacob blinked hard. He looked...confused. As if he'd never considered the possibility that Ellie might not, in fact, need him.

"If you really do love her, and I believe you do, then you'll give her space. Give her her childhood, Jake. Let her grow up to be herself. If she really is your imprint, she'll find her way to you when she's ready."

Jacob didn't argue any more. It was as if, by telling him that Ellie had no need for him, Bella had taken all the fight out of him. After a long moment, he struggled to his feet. He approached Edward, whose rumbling growl increased with each step. Bella watched, not breathing, as Jacob reached out. Very, very gently, he cupped the palm of his hand around Ellie's tiny head. "I'll be waiting," he whispered.

Then he turned. The sound of angry feet echoed on the stairs, and then he was gone.

Only when the front door slammed did Edward's growl fade. He cuddled his daughter in his arms, stroking her hair, removing the traces of wolf scent, replacing them with his own. "I can't believe you're so calm about this. He just waltzes in and says he's going to marry your daughter? And you're okay with that?"

Bella shrugged and shifted slowly, returning to her spot in bed. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. All she wanted was to have her baby back, and to sleep. "I'm sort of learning that I have good reason to be angry with him, even though I don't _feel_ angry. Mostly I feel sad." She coughed. "But if Jake really did imprint on Ellie, he's not getting his happily ever after."

"Why not? He seemed pretty decided."

"He was so proud about becoming a wolf." She managed a small smile. "It was, like, the best thing that ever happened to him. He desperately wants a son to follow in his footsteps and become a wolf, too. That's why he wouldn't marry me, take me away from Charlie. Not because he didn't like me, but because to him his future son was more important."

Edward lifted his head to meet her gaze. "And that won't likely happen with Ellie. She's not Quileute."

"Not only that, but she's a hybrid. Most hybrid animals are sterile. We can't know what will happen when she grows up but, statistically speaking, she may not be able to have children at all."

"And we don't know how long it will take her to grow up, either." Edward stroked Ellie's little back with his gentle hand. She cooed, and he finally cracked a smile. "Yeah," he said, speaking softly to his daughter. "We don't know how you'll grow. Your so-called suitor may be waiting a hell of a long time, sweet thing."

"What do you mean?" Bella stretched, trying to work out some of the tension in her neck and back. She was tired of being so uncomfortable all the time, tired of feeling so sick and weak.

"Because of the flu you weren't able to carry to term, so we don't know how long she might have stayed inside you naturally. But she's so small that both Carlisle and I agree she wasn't near term."

"But we already know that. She was something like three weeks early."

"Size differs among human newborns, but Carlisle says she's small even for three weeks early. He thinks you would have remained pregnant for a longer period of time than normal. But she's fully formed and has none of the problems that plague premature infants."

"What are you getting at?" Bella felt like grabbing for her daughter at even the mention of physical issues. Ellie was fine, but she remembered well her fear when Edward told her they had to deliver her early. She'd been so afraid that the tiny heart wouldn't be ready to support her body on its own, that the lungs weren't developed enough to breathe, to keep breathing, steady, strong, every day, for the rest of her child's life.

"It's just a theory, but it's what Carlisle suspects right now. Vampires are so much more...complex, if you will...than humans. Physically, I mean. Stronger, faster. Superior senses. He thinks for Ellie that might mean a longer time in the womb and slower development now that she's born."

"You mean, because her body is working to become so much more than a normal human, it's going to take longer?"

"Exactly." Edward adjusted his daughter against his shoulder. She was falling asleep on him now that the excitement was over. "He thinks that her human traits have developed first, but her vampire traits will start showing up later, as she grows."

"So she'll get strong and fast, too. Will she have a gift?"

"If so, Carlisle thinks it will develop later as well."

Bella considered this. It made a certain amount of sense. And she kind of liked the idea that Ellie might stay a baby longer than usual. It would give the vampire members of the family more time to enjoy her at each age—to them, her infancy would be no more than a blink of an eye otherwise.

But she had worries, too. "Do you think she'll get so strong that I might not be able to safely care for her anymore?" She sucked her chapped lower lip into her mouth, chewing on it in worry. The metallic taste of blood hit her tongue. Edward tsked and tugged her lip free. Ellie, half asleep, flared her nostrils and made a tiny smacking sound.

"It's possible." Edward eyed her carefully. "Does that mean you want to remain human for a while?"

Bella shrugged. "I'm too tired to make that decision right now."

"You don't have to make it until you're ready. I just wondered. It's so frustrating when I want to read your mind and I can't." His soft, velvet voice wrapped around her, filling her with warmth. "All through this...existence of mine, ever since I awoke with Carlisle, I've yearned for silent minds. Dreamed of them. Now..." He shook his head. "Of course it would be you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's just one of many things that make you unique." He checked the baby on his shoulder. "She's asleep. Do you want her?"

Bella nodded fiercely, but she knew better than to hold out her arms. Edward placed the child in her lap, and she stroked the little body reverently. "I thought being changed was an easy choice. It _was_ an easy choice—until two days ago."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I...I'm scared of how the change will be for Ellie. I won't be able to feed her anymore, and that's...it means a lot to me. To be able to do that." Bella hadn't realized how much she'd want to nurse her baby until she experienced it. Being able to breastfeed and give her daughter blood was such an intense bonding experience, one she didn't want to forfeit. "And I worry that she won't recognize me when I'm your temperature. I'll smell different, too. Will she still know me?" Tears pricked at her eyes, but she pushed them away. "Also, I'll have to spend three whole days without her. I don't know if I can."

"Longer than that, I'm afraid." Edward was careful to keep his voice neutral. "When you wake, the only thing you'll know is the hunger—the thirst for blood. Until you can control it, which can take upwards of a year, you'll be too dangerous for her."

Bella shook her head, vehement. "No. No, Edward. I understand what you're saying and in general I believe you...but not about Ellie. I could never hurt her, vampire or no."

Edward wanted to believe her. He did. But she had never experienced the thirst, and he knew better. No matter how much she loved her child, it didn't conquer the ravenous hunger of a newborn vampire. Nothing did. And he was sworn to keep his daughter safe, even from her mother.

"Well," he said, unwilling to argue when Bella was so sick, "we'll see. Carlisle hasn't given any indication that you need to make the decision soon. Just relax. We all want you to get well."

She sighed, caressing her child with slowing fingers as sleep hovered close. "I felt terrible sending Jacob away. I don't know that he deserved that."

Edward didn't care. He hoped Ellie would take centuries to grow up. It would serve the dog right—not for anything he'd done, but for everything he hadn't.

* * *

Five days later, Carlisle deemed Bella well enough that Heidi could come for a home visit. Bella cried openly, unable to help herself as all traces of the baby were removed from her room.

"I can't d-do this!" she whimpered, holding Ellie in her arms, fat tears slipping from her eyes as she watched Edward carry the precious little cradle away to put in Mason's room for the time being. His face was a stoic mask, but she knew from the rigid clench of his jaw that he felt the same. He knew how much this hurt her, and it killed him to have to do it. "I can't sit here and t-talk to Heidi and pretend everything's fine!"

Carlisle perched on the side of her big bed, facing her as she curled protectively around the baby in her arms. His gentle face held the understanding that Edward couldn't bear to show, and he rested his hand on Bella's knee above the mound of blankets. "I know. I know, sweetheart. It wrenches, doesn't it?"

"I _can't_ , Carlisle."

Sensing her mother's distress, Ellie whimpered unhappily. Her little arms jerked and waved. Bella pressed her lips to one tiny palm, simply holding her mouth there, breathing in the warm, comforting smell of her baby.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way. Truly I am." Carlisle's words were laced with gentle regret. "I know this is extremely difficult, but it won't be for long. Esme can stay with you—anyone but Edward." It was too dangerous for Edward to be near her with Heidi around, and Bella understood that. He wasn't good at hiding their relationship and, at this point, the social worker finding out would be devastating. Reluctantly, Edward had agreed to take Ellie—well bundled against the spring chill—into the woods circling the house. No inopportune newborn cries would give her away, and once Heidi left, she would be back in her mother's arms.

The problem was, Bella didn't think she could be parted from her daughter for so long while keeping up the farce. Ellie was so new, so fragile, and Bella herself was still tired, sick, and overwhelmed by the last few weeks. Charlie's death, her illness, Ellie's abrupt birth, Jacob... Now to be tasked with pretending that Ellie didn't exist and she knew nothing about her father's death except what the police told Carlisle...she couldn't do it. She really couldn't do it.

Bella's cries increased, not in volume but in severity, and Ellie's soon followed. Carlisle's forehead wrinkled in concern as he watched his daughter struggle for breath against the fear and despair that swept through her. She sat hunched over in her bed, hugging her newborn tightly, as if to protect the child from the world that had given her so much pain. Edward cursed under his breath and was back from Mason's room in an instant, unable to keep away when his mate and child were so distraught.

The situation wrenched at Carlisle, and he considered the small human girl in front of him carefully. She was still recovering from her difficult brush with influenza, not to mention the severe mental and emotional stress she'd been in for so long. Charlie's death helped in some ways, but increased the strain in others. She'd watched the man die. The aftermath of that was coming; there was no way she could witness something like that and be fine afterward. In addition, she now had to lie even more to police and state workers, hiding the truth that Edward had killed her father to protect her. Bella was not a liar by nature, and he knew it weighed heavily on her conscience. She had so many secrets to keep—the vampire nature of her new family, Charlie's death, Ellie's birth, her whereabouts when she was in Britain... It all added up to a lot of lies, coupled with the actual events themselves.

"Shh...Bella, listen to my voice." Her heart raced far too fast, and she was struggling to breathe. "Sweetheart, you're hyperventilating. Listen to me. I'm going to help you calm down. Inhale slowly...that's it. Breathe in for a count of four, or as close as you can. One...two...three...four. Now out for four. One...two...three...four." At first, Bella could only manage breaths of about one and a half, but she struggled to obey, her body slowly calming. "Focus on your breath. Try not to think about anything else. One...two...three...four. You can do it. Inhale. Exhale. Calm. Good girl."

It took close to ten long minutes before Bella could breathe as Carlisle asked. She moved slowly, unbending just a little, her swollen eyes still spilling tears even as she struggled to bring herself under control.

Carlisle exhaled a long breath through his nose. It hurt him to see his newest, most fragile daughter like this, and he knew Edward felt the same. Bella's arms trembled, but she refused to let go of her baby. This was supposed to be her special time to bond with her infant, to cement that all-important mother-child relationship. It was clear she loved her little girl deeply and desperately wanted to be everything Ellie needed. Even though Bella understood intellectually what they were asking of her and why, her heart rejected it. She couldn't wrap her intense, hormone-fueled emotions around the reality of pretending her daughter didn't exist, of erasing every trace of her, even for just a short while. To her rational mind, it was necessary. To her heart, it was a rejection of the child—something she, with her history of being rejected herself, just couldn't make herself do.

Edward had once asked whether the strain of going to trial might be enough to break Bella. It hadn't been but now, facing her on the bed, watching how tightly she held her little one, Carlisle wondered if this might be that moment. In the end, perhaps it wasn't Charlie that would break her, but the intense weight of everything she'd been through.

And because Carlisle could not stand to do that to his daughter, he reached forward and touched her cheek very softly with the tips of his fingers. "Bella," he said, calling her attention back to him. "Let's talk about this, please."

Watery, red-rimmed eyes blinked, watching him warily. She sniffed, but refused the tissue box Edward held out to her. Her arms were full of Ellie, and she was absolutely not letting go.

"So...is this it, then?" He tilted his head slightly to one side, watching her, monitoring her physical body with all of his senses. He could still hear a faint rasp when she breathed, and she'd lost a fair amount of weight from all the nausea—weight she needed if she was going to continue nursing Ellie with both milk and blood. Ideally he'd like to try the baby on formula for at least a little while, to give Bella the chance to regain some strength, but he knew better than to ask. No way would she allow that unless forced, and he refused to force her. After everything she'd gone through, she needed some control over her world. "Let's talk about our options, please?"

Bella swallowed thickly, wincing against the lingering pain in her throat. "I didn't realize I had options."

"You _always_ have options. They all come with consequences because that's how life works, unfortunately, but you have options." He squeezed her knee gently. "Heidi is coming. She's already on the road, and I can't stop her. If I tried to reschedule I'm afraid she'd get suspicious that we're hiding something. That much can't be changed. But you don't have to hold yourself together and talk to her. You could curl up right there in bed and refuse to speak. No one but you can make that choice."

"But she'll only get concerned. She might stay longer, and she'll come back sooner. She'll be nosy."

"Probably," Carlisle agreed. He watched Edward shift impatiently in the chair by Bella's bed. He was hurting almost as much as she was, and Carlisle felt a great deal of sympathy for his son as well as his daughter. They both needed unfettered time—time to heal, and grow, and learn to be a family together with their newborn. They didn't need all this pressure from the state. "You could also refuse to let Ellison go—I know that's your biggest hurdle right now. Absolutely no one in this family will forcibly take her from you, and I hope you know that."

"But then Heidi will know. Everyone will know. She'll call you unfit parents, and she'll try to take me away from you." Bella's lower lip quivered. This had been one of her biggest fears for a long time now.

"Unfortunately, that's probably correct."

"I can't do that. But I don't think I can just let her go, either."

"Then let's see if we can find a solution to the problem."

Bella's dull eyes rose to meet his for a moment before they dropped again. "How?"

Carlisle paused. He glanced at his son, then back at Bella. "Edward could bite you. Now. You'd be thrashing as if in the middle of a seizure when Emily arrived. I could rush you away to the hospital, and we would tell her later that you'd died. It would be no more than the truth, technically. To become like us, you must die first."

Bella bit her lip, staring down at the child in her arms. Carlisle knew that she still wanted to change, but she also wanted to nurse her baby and she could not do both. For now, remaining human was her priority.

"Or what about this?" Edward's face was a frown of concentration as he thought through his idea. "Bella, do you think you could go through with this meeting if you knew it was the last one?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she said before that we were free to move within the state of Washington, and she could probably be convinced to let us move out of state."

"But not out of the country." Bella coughed, but the sound was neither as deep nor as raspy as it had been several days ago. She was on the mend. "I want to go back to Ellison House."

"I know, love. Listen for a moment." He touched Ellie's head lightly, his fingers brushing against her lacy curls. "If Carlisle can convince her to let us move out of state with you, we could tell her we're moving to Alaska. The Denalis will help us build a cover. Then we'd go to Ellison House, just as you wanted. We might have to fly back a few times to keep up appearances, but it'd only be for six more months or so. Then you turn eighteen and you can legally live wherever you want."

Carlisle considered Edward's suggestion. It hinged on multiple people's agreement, so he couldn't say for sure whether it would work. Their Denali cousins would help; he was confident enough about that. But while Heidi might be persuaded to let them move to Oregon or Idaho, Alaska was...a little different. It would be a big move, almost like settling in another country because of the distance. Would she allow it? He honestly couldn't say. And there was the legal process to consider, as well. Heidi's word was not final—she merely made a recommendation to a family court judge, who then issued a final ruling. Judges almost always deferred to the recommendation of social workers, but it wasn't a guarantee.

Still, Carlisle was determined to try when he saw the gleam of hope in Bella's tired brown eyes.

"Really?" she whispered.

"We can certainly try," he agreed, willing to do almost anything to help Bella recover from everything that had happened to her in her short human life. "I can't make any promises about Heidi's decision, but we can try."

Bella took a deep breath, her lower lip quivering again when she looked down at the baby in her arms. "I still don't want to let her go. I really don't. But I think...I think I can try. If it means I don't ever have to do it again."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later she and Esme were waiting, seated on her bed as Carlisle led Heidi into the room. Bella had cried again when Edward took Ellie, but she managed to pull herself together enough to put on a brave, if delicate, front. Her overwhelming sense of fragility didn't bother Carlisle too much—it would work in their favor when Heidi saw it, as long as Bella could hold herself together and not let anything slip for just a little while.

"Bella!" Heidi greeted, standing at the edge of the big four-poster bed. "I'm so glad you're feeling better. Carlisle says you were one sick young lady for a while there."

Bella nodded, doing her best to smile at her social worker. Really, Heidi had been immensely helpful. Not as soon as she should have been—she should have known something was wrong the day of Mason's birth—but, in the end, she'd come through. She wanted Bella to thrive just as much as her new family did.

"Please, tell me how you're feeling?" Heidi sat in the rich brown leather chair Carlisle carried in from his office. "It's been a while since we've talked."

Bella shrugged, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. She was vibrating with tension, so terrified that something would happen and Heidi would learn their secret. Everything of Ellie's had been moved to Mason's room and Bella had thick nursing pads stuck in her bra in case she leaked, but she was still so anxious. This was it—the moment where she had to perform her best. Everything she hoped for hinged on Heidi agreeing that she could leave the state with the Cullens. "Still sick," she admitted, "but not as bad. I'm so tired, though. Everything's just so...much." She looked to Esme, the only true mother she'd ever really known.

Without fail, Esme slid an arm around her and pulled her close, her gentle, calming smile offering a moment of refuge from Bella's internal storm. "We were notified of Charlie's death soon after she took sick," she said. "It was quite a blow to all of us."

"Yes. I wanted to ask you about that as well. How are you holding up? I know Leia Hendricks was with you when the police questioned everyone. I'm sorry I couldn't make it on such short notice."

"Yes, the police were very polite, and I'm sure Bella felt better having Leia there, even though you couldn't make it." Esme smiled graciously.

"Do you understand, Bella, why the police had to question you?"

Bella leaned into Esme's comforting presence, nodding as her mother's arm held her steady. "Because we don't like him, and I was pressing charges. We had motive, the police said. But they weren't mean. I don't think they really thought we did it."

"They didn't, and neither do I. They'll wait for the tox screen results to come back before officially closing the case, but it looks like a simple fishing accident. He was found with his fishing gear near a spot Billy Black confirmed they frequented. It looks like he stepped wrong and slipped, hit his head on a rock, and that was it. He died quickly and painlessly, if it's any consolation."

One of Bella's shoulders hitched upward. "Not really."

Heidi tilted her head to one side. "Can you tell me why not? Did you want him to suffer?"

Bella shuddered. She didn't like anyone thinking that of her, even momentarily. If she'd wanted to, she could have told Edward or Rosalie to make Charlie suffer. They would have done so gleefully and not regretted it for an instant. But that wasn't how Bella did things. "No," she said, glad of Esme's comfort and Carlisle's steady presence. "I never wanted him to suffer. That wasn't the reason I pressed charges."

"What was your reason, if you don't mind me asking?"

Bella chewed on her lower lip. She knew her reasons, but it was difficult to put them to words. "I...well, I didn't want him to hurt anyone else. That's why I wanted him off the police force."

"And the criminal charges?"

"He never apologized for anything—none of it." She looked down at her hands twisted in her lap. Two fingers sported Band-Aids—the result of Ellie's thirst. "He never thought he was wrong. I always wanted that from him. Not the apology—I mean, I wanted one, but I knew I'd never get it. But I wanted someone important, like a judge or a jury, to tell him that he was _wrong_. That what he did was not okay. I wanted him to understand that. Now..." She shrugged. "Now he's just dead."

They sat for a long moment in silence, Esme holding her tightly with one arm, and Bella knew in her heart that her little Ellie would always be loved and cared for. When she had questions, Esme would be there to answer them. She could have no better teacher or guide for motherhood, and she didn't know if there was any way to truly express her gratitude to the woman who had become the thing she'd sorely needed.

"That is...an extremely perceptive and mature way to feel," Heidi said finally. "I'm extremely sorry that you'll never get that resolution you crave. With time and space it will begin to feel better, though, I promise."

"About that." Carlisle rested an ankle on his opposite knee and folded his hands. "Ms. Fischer, Bella has expressed to us, and we agree with her, that she needs a new start. We need to move."

To Bella's relief, Heidi looked neither surprised nor upset. "Where do you plan to go?"

Carlisle and Esme exchanged a glance. "I have cousins in Alaska," Esme said. "They live out in the bush. We'd want to be closer to civilization, of course, what with the children still in school. Fairbanks was our hope. Then we could have the best of both worlds—good schools for the kids and family nearby."

Heidi tapped her pen rhythmically against her yellow legal pad. She considered the idea for what felt like an eternity while Bella held her breath and hoped.

"That's a long way," Heidi said finally.

"We truly believe distance is what Bella needs right now," Esme replied. "We've spoken to the other kids as well. They don't mind moving, especially after everything that's happened. There's a great deal of talk in town, what with Charlie's disappearance and Bella coming to live with us. We could all use a fresh start."

"That's true enough." Heidi nodded slowly. "We'd have to get in touch with social services in Alaska, see what they can offer. I still really want Bella in therapy."

"When she's ready. I don't want to push." Carlisle leaned back slightly in his chair. "She'll always be part of our family and whatever she needs, we'll do our best to provide. College, of course. Whatever continuing healthcare she needs, including mental health. A home for however long is required. Family for the rest of her life." He smiled Bella's way, and she managed to give him a faltering smile back.

"We'll need to run this by a judge," Heidi said, settling her papers in a neat pile on her lap. "But as far as I'm concerned, I trust your judgment of what your kids need. And I wish you all the best."

* * *

And so, two and a half weeks later, Bella found herself in a sleek black Mercedes—Carlisle seemed to have a fondness for the brand—gliding up the long, familiar drive toward Ellison House. Her heart pounded in her chest but, for once, it was a happy feeling. More even than the lovely modern house in the middle of the woods in Forks, she felt at home here. This was where she'd found herself, where she'd faced some of her biggest fears and done a great deal of growing up. First with Edward and then with Alice, she'd had a chance to really focus on herself for the first time in her life. She wasn't expected to wait on anyone, to cook and clean except as it pleased her. No one cursed at her, called her useless and ugly. No one beat or abused her here. Oh, she'd been lost and afraid in this house at first, but those feelings hadn't lasted.

Best of all, this was where Ellie had been conceived. Bella had named her daughter after Carlisle's ancestral home, the place that had become so dear to her.

As they rolled slowly over fresh gravel, Bella could see that much work had been done to the grounds. Lawns were mowed, trees and hedges pruned and trimmed. A small pond, once silty and covered with scum, was now dredged and glittered blue under a beautiful springtime sun.

"The renovators have been hard at work on Esme's plans," Carlisle said from the driver's seat on the right—Bella would have to get used to people driving on the wrong side of the car _and_ the wrong side of the road. "Look—we're almost there."

Esme sat in the front passenger seat, Ellie behind her in her carseat. It was cramped in the back with the carseat, Edward, and Bella, but Bella would not be parted from her daughter and Edward would not be parted from Bella, so they managed. Bella ducked her head, staring out the window as the grand old house came into sight.

There—there it was! And oh, it took her breath away. Even the old stones on the outside of the manor had been washed and they looked so much brighter than she remembered. The car came to a stop outside the main entrance and Bella opened the door, climbing to her feet. Edward was at her side with Ellie an instant later, two more cars containing the rest of the family parking behind them.

Bella took Ellie from her fiance, turning the baby to face the grand house. "Look, little lovely girl," she whispered, breathing in, smelling sweet grass and rich, damp earth on the wind. "This is Ellison House, and you're my Ellison. This is your grandfather's house, and your birthright."

"Actually." Carlisle cleared his throat and glanced at Esme, who was failing horribly to hide her smile. "Bella, there's something we have to tell you."

"What?" She looked at her parents, watching as Esme wound an arm through Carlisle's. The old Bella would almost certainly feel fear at those words, but the old Bella was gone. This Bella had a family who loved her, and she trusted them implicitly. They would never hurt her. Whatever Carlisle had to say, she didn't fear it.

"This house..." He put his hands in his pockets, looking up at the aged edifice. It spoke of centuries of splendor—of wealth and magnificence, but also of the pain that went along with so long a life. The house belonged to a time when rigid codes of conduct ruled—when economic and social classes remained separate, some meant to serve, others to be waited upon. The servants' entrance, almost visible at the side of the house, was proof enough of that. This grand old manor held the history of Carlisle's human family and the secrets, written in black-bound journals, of his long vampire existence. It sat empty, untended and unloved for centuries, until Edward's hasty decision to kidnap her plunged two lost, hurting souls into the ancient hallways. They'd been searching for home, for family, for love, unaware that the answers were right in front of them.

Now, that love had brought the house back to life.

"I couldn't sell this place, but I thought I couldn't live her ever again, either. Too many memories, too many shadows on my heart." Carlisle faced the house as he spoke, his family gathered around him. Two of his daughters held babies in their arms—grandchildren for a man who believed for centuries he was doomed to walk the earth alone. "But you, Bella. You gave it back to me. And now I'm giving it to you." He turned to his human daughter and smiled, a smile bright with the happiness of a man who had everything he'd ever wanted.

Bella's eyes grew big and her knees faltered. Edward, just behind her, rested his hands carefully on her waist. He would always be there to catch her—just as she would be there for him. "What did you say?"

"Consider it a wedding present." Carlisle smiled at his wife, then at Bella once more. "It's yours now, sweetheart. This house...it speaks to you, and you to it. It was waiting for you—it was yours the moment you set foot inside. So, in a way, you were right. It _is_ Ellie's birthright—from you as much as from Edward and I."

Tears welled in Bella's eyes. "I don't know what to say. Thank you, Carlisle. Thank you, Esme."

"I was planning the renovation with you in mind." Esme blinked as if pushing back her own tears, though by now Bella knew her family could not cry. "Oh, baby girl. I'm so happy for you!"

"Can we go in and see?" Bella looked eagerly at the massive doors of Ellison House— _her_ house. She was determined to fill the silent old halls with laughter and music. Children—Mason, Ellie, and their schoolfriends—would run wild here, having adventures during the dreary winters of northern England. There was more than enough room for everyone to spread out and have private space, and also come together as a family. She envisioned evenings in front of the fireplace in the library, reading to Ellie as she fell asleep in her arms. She and Edward would have a new bedroom now—a room that was theirs, together. Her cheeks pinked as visions of what they'd do behind locked doors filled her mind. Charlie Swan and his ex-wife, Renee? They were only memories now. They twinged once in a while, as the incision from her C-section had. Eventually, she knew, they would fade.

She had waited so long. Now, she was ready for _life_ to begin.

"Just one more thing." Edward pulled gently at her waist, backing her up several steps. "Look up there."

Above the doorway, a massive stone carving of the Cullen crest sat in pride of place. Except it wasn't quite right. The roaring lion now had his front paws curled around a graceful column.

"Do you see that?" Carlisle pointed. "That column is for the two of you, Bella. You and your daughter."

"What does it represent?" Bella whispered, awestruck that they would do such a thing for her.

"Fortitude, constancy, and wisdom."

Bella's dark velvet eyes were huge in her delicate face, and she swallowed hard. "I-I don't think I'm all that wise."

Carlisle chuckled. "Your heart is. The rest is just learning to trust it." He put a hand back in his pocket and pulled out a small box. Opening it, he removed a leather cuff much like Edward's, but smaller and softer, more fitting for her delicate wrist. He fastened it carefully, tickling Ellie's chin when he finished. "I wanted to give this to you during your birthday party, but Esme said it was too soon, that we'd scare you away if you came on so strong. It's been waiting since then—Alice was so sure you would be part of our family. I don't tend to bet against her."

Bella's watery smile was bright, tremulous but wide. "Thanks, dad," she said, testing the name on her tongue. Charlie had never been "dad." But with Carlisle, it just felt right.

He kissed her forehead. "Anytime. You know that."

"Well?" Edward wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, hugging her to his chest. It felt so good—so right. With his arms to hold her, there was little she would ever fear. "Shall we go in?"

Bella lifted Ellie to her shoulder, supporting her little head. "Are you ready, baby? Welcome home."


	49. Chapter 49

**One year later**

It was a pleasant Saturday for once—cloudy, yes, but dry. People appeared as if from hibernation whenever dry weather fell on a weekend, and as Frank Zinecki strolled along the Bridge of Glass, plenty of joggers, walkers, and families surrounded him.

He liked this place because of the people, and he didn't give a fuck about the extensive collection of Chihuly art on both sides and above. Zinecki wasn't "that sort of person," in his words. He liked cheap beer, violent sports, and girls with big tits. Being a police officer made him feel important. When he arrested some punk-ass kid, he could yell at the little fucker and call him whatever he wanted. He could be a little rough handcuffing and patting them down—or a lot rough, if he judged that the asshole wouldn't rat him out. He wasn't stupid. He knew the range of his dashboard cam, and which intersections in town had their own cameras. No way was he going to risk his job, and someday his pension.

By this point in his career, he was an expert at reading people. He knew when someone was lying to him. He knew who was likely to talk and who would keep their mouth shut. Hell, he could even pretty much tell what someone speaking Spanish or Thai was trying to say, even though he didn't speak the language. Language had nothing to do with it. Everyone, they all said the same things. Yes, officer. No, officer. I don't remember, officer.

A man with a familiar-looking moustache walked past, and Zinecki's mind rolled back more than a year, to the last time he'd seen his old friend, Charlie Swan. It was too bad about Charlie, really. A fishing accident was such...such an _elderly_ way to die. He might as well have just fallen asleep in his recliner and never woken up. For his part, Zinecki wanted to go down on the job. If not, and he ever got to see his pension, he wanted to die in the middle of a good fuck. Heart attacks during sex weren't all that uncommon, after all. He snickered softly, hiding his smirk with a little cough. He'd just like to see the face of the bitch he was riding when she realized she was fucking a corpse. That shit would be fucking hilarious.

As Zinecki angled his way downtown, his thoughts remained on Charlie Swan. The guy had been a good cop, a good friend. Whatever his vices, he was in God's hands now. Zinecki wasn't sure he believed in God. Definitely he never let any dogma guide his actions or anything, but still sometimes he wondered just where he was going when he eventually died. Not often. Just...sometimes when he woke up at three a.m. alone in his house, the velvet silence pressing in. Or when someone looked him in the eye like they could read his thoughts, see his daydreams—like he had a big cartoon thought-bubble hovering over his head.

He knew perfectly well that most people wouldn't like what they saw.

Thoughts about Charlie Swan led, inevitably, to thoughts of Charlie's daughter, Bella. Now, there was a girl it didn't hurt to think about. Her tits weren't really big enough for his taste, but she'd only been fifteen the last time he'd seen her. She had time to grow.

But oh, even at fifteen, she was just too perfect to resist, and so Zinecki hadn't. Charlie had brought her along to some training thing or whatever in Seattle, and told her to stay in the hotel and keep quiet. A sick smile creased Zinecki's mouth as he remembered. Really, what was he supposed to do? He was a man, after all, and he could only stand so much temptation. One day while everyone else was at the training, he went back to the hotel where he knew Charlie's little girl was waiting.

She'd cried, but he knew that was just because she thought she was expected to. Really, she wanted it. _Of course_ she wanted it. If she didn't, she wouldn't have looked like that, all sweet and doe-eyed, with that perfect teenage body...

Clearing his throat abruptly, Zinecki changed direction. He headed toward the port of Tacoma and the warehouse district, his mind still full of Charlie's daughter. He'd warned her not to tell, but the first chance she got, what did she do? She tattled to her father. When Charlie came to him for an explanation, Zinecki just gave him the truth: she was asking for it, and he could only stand so much.

Charlie had understood.

And to make sure the girl also understood, Zinecki had returned to her the next day with two willing accomplices to hold her down. He was the _police_. When he gave an order, it was meant to be obeyed.

"Frank Zinecki, is that you?"

The female voice was warm, like honey. He paused and looked around, zeroing in on a vision of perfection heading his way.

He recognized her instantly, though she looked so...different. Several years had matured Charlie Swan's teenage daughter into a gorgeous fucking young woman. She was slender and willowy but the curves of her hips and tits made him swallow hard. Once clumsy and awkward, she now strode along the street with utter confidence, a kind of fearless attitude he would never have imagined she'd gain. Long, thick brown hair, gorgeous full lips...she was the total package. She was the reason why every other pathetic woman puked up their dinners into the toilet every day.

"It's Isabella!" She paused once she reached a comfortable speaking distance, put one hand on her hip, and pouted those drool-worthy lips. "Don't you remember me?"

A smile curled his mouth. She bore him no ill-will? That definitely meant she had wanted him back then.

And now? "Oh, I remember you, Isabella. I remember you _very_ well."

Her face brightened with a delighted smile. So hot. If he'd thought having her back then was good, how much better would it be now, when she was all grown up and looking like _that_? He ached to find out.

"You never came to see me again after Seattle," she said, her smile dimming somewhat. "Why didn't you ever come?"

Zinecki stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to adjust himself without giving too much away. "Oh, Isabella," he purred, lowering his voice, "you know I would have loved to _come_." He emphasized the word, just knowing she'd used it on purpose, too. "But your daddy, you see, baby girl. He would have been in our way."

She took a step sideways, legs open in a pronounced V under her short little blue plaid skirt. He watched those legs, the navy blue heels below them, aching to touch again what was up under that skirt. She was dolled up almost like a naughty schoolgirl, and the thought had him rock hard and panting for her.

Another step brought her up against the brick wall of an alleyway beside them. Smiling, she tilted her head toward the darkness between two warehouses. "He's not in the way now."

"No, he certainly isn't." Sorry, Charlie. Not that the dead man would care. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. Sweat stood out on his forehead and rolled down his back. "I'm so sorry I never _came_ for you after Seattle, baby girl. Should I fix that now? Hm?"

"Please?"

Oh, that word undid him. His heart churned even faster. It was actually starting to hurt a little bit, and he was sweating profusely. Why did this feel so much different than the first time he'd taken her? She might think she was a big girl now, but he was still in charge. Nothing had changed except the size of those tits he ached to squeeze. "Be a good girl now, and Uncle Frank will make it all better." He stepped into the alley, but those two steps...something was wrong. He doubled over, hands on his knees. He was really starting to feel funny. His vision swam.

"What's wrong, Uncle Frank?"

Only now did he hear the mocking lilt under the sweetness of her voice.

"You..."

"Me?" She pointed at her chest with wide open eyes, but that innocent expression was anything but.

"What did you...do?" he panted.

"I didn't do _anything_." She shook her head from side to side to emphasize her point.

"I did, actually."

A male figure stepped out from behind a dumpster. He was tall—lean but muscular. Young and handsome, with pitch black eyes. Zinecki's mind was whirling and he felt a strange floating sensation, but he was lucid enough to recognize the man. It was the waiter from the sandwich shop where he'd had lunch just an hour or so before.

"I'm sure you've dealt with plenty of roofied girls before, whether on the job or off," Isabella said, dropping the playful, innocent act. "But I bet you've never actually been drugged yourself." She smiled, but the curve of her lush lips now looked like the edge of a blade. What color had her eyes been before—back in Seattle? He scrabbled in his confused mind for the answer. Right now they were the color of brick. Was that normal? Did people have brick-colored eyes? Fumbling, he lost his struggle with gravity and tumbled to his ass on the filthy pavement, his back hitting the wall behind him hard.

"The thing about ketamine here," the man said, pulling out a yellow prescription bottle and tapping the lid with his index finger, "is that you're not going to sleep. You're going to stay awake, paralyzed but aware, for the next...oh...two hours or so." He screwed up his face and tilted his head from side to side. "Oooor until she kills you. Whichever comes first."

Charlie Swan's little girl squatted in front of him, retaining perfect balance on the balls of her feet. No way would that kid have been able to do that three years ago. She'd have fallen flat on her face.

Or would she? He was definitely having trouble keeping his mind clear, especially when he looked at those brick-colored eyes. They stared at him without blinking, and even though she was just a young woman, a girl really, fear uncurled in his belly and bled up through his chest. He could breathe and he could move his eyes, but he was unable to do anything else—his own body made useless by chemicals.

"I had to think a lot about this, you know," she said, her hands on her knees as she watched him, unflinching. "I didn't know how I would feel about seeing you again—sharing the same air as you." She grinned and glanced up at the man beside her. "Of course, I don't breathe anymore, so that's something."

The man chuckled, showing very white, sharp-looking teeth.

"I didn't even know how much you knew about what happened after Seattle." Isabella's eyes flicked back to him. There was something...animal about her. Zinecki wanted to shudder, but his body wouldn't even do that much. He was frozen. "Edward reads minds, though, and he told me after taking your order at the restaurant that you really had no clue." She shrugged, nothing but her shoulders moving. Her balance remained perfect. "Not that it would have changed my mind. The thing is, Frank, not knowing isn't enough to save you. Not after what you did." She shook her head and, for the first time, he saw her confidence falter, just for a moment. For one heartbeat, she looked again like the little girl he'd taken in that hotel in Seattle—younger, even, maybe. He wondered what she was thinking. Why the hell was she doing this? What did she want from him? Surely she didn't actually mean to kill him?

That regal self-assured aura returned to her almost immediately, but instead of calm, Isabella was _angry_. "I was fifteen, asshole! _Fifteen_. What the hell were you thinking? That it was okay to overpower and rape a fifteen-year-old girl? That there would never be any consequences for what you did?"

She raised herself to her full height, pacing away three steps down the dingy alley before turning and pacing back. "Charlie might not have cared, but guess what? I did. _I_ did! And it's _my_ opinion that counts now. You know why?" She smiled down at him, suddenly calm. "Because Charlie's dead, Frank. Edward here killed him, and I didn't cry one single tear. Just like I won't once you're gone."

Pausing, she knelt again and picked up his lifeless hand. He could feel her touch, but he couldn't respond to it. The fear in his chest tightened around his heart, constricting the muscle. It pulsed, hard and out of rhythm, struggling to work against the tide of drugs and terror. What the hell had happened to Isabella? This was not the little girl he remembered.

She cocked her head to the side as if considering. Her hand was as cold as stone under his. Raising her eyes to his, she took hold of his middle finger. Just the barest flick of her grip and pain exploded through his hand and up his arm, though the bellow that tried to burst from his lungs was only a tiny squeak. Tears welled and spilled down his cheeks.

"Human bones break so easily," Isabella mused. "Edward, I know I'm repeating myself, but I'm constantly in awe of how careful you were with me when I was this breakable."

"How could I be otherwise?"

"Others weren't." Another flick. Another broken finger. "I'm going to clue you in on some things, Frank. I guess Charlie never told you, but you left me with a little reminder of your attacks." She broke his pinky, almost ripping it from his hand. He wheezed, unable to scream. "I wanted to get rid of it, but Charlie wouldn't let me. He made me have the baby so he had something to hold over my head. If I ever ran away, he would have punished the boy in my place."

Boy. What boy? What was she talking about? Zinecki couldn't keep up. Too many words. Too much pain. He wanted to scream, wanted to writhe, but his body remained still.

"Eventually, though, I found good people to help me, people who loved me. They helped me get away, and I put the baby in the care of parents who love him. He's going to grow up to be _nothing_ like you." She dropped his hand and stood. "There's just one little problem. You see, we decided that when he gets old enough to start asking questions, we're going to tell him that his biological father is dead. That you were a bad man and did some very bad things, but he doesn't ever have to worry about you finding him, because you. Are. Dead. And that's where the problem lies, because Frank? No matter what you told Charlie, I am _not_ a liar. I didn't lie when I told him you raped me, and because I won't lie to Mason, you, Frank, have to die."

Her foot came down on his left knee, shattering the joint. A shard of patella sliced through thin skin and he began to bleed. Isabella's nose fluttered and she stilled for a moment.

"Bella?"

"I'm okay." She flashed a smile at the tall man beside her—no woman had ever smiled at Zinecki like that, ever. It was a smile of gratitude, and love, and a devotion that ran deeper than blood, deeper than rock and water, deeper than time. He could only wonder at it. If anyone ever gave him a smile like that, he wouldn't know what to do with it.

"There are several reasons why you have to die. Partially it's the consequence for raping a fifteen-year-old girl and taking away her future—though I found another, so my story, at least, has a happy ending. It's also to save any more girls from my fate, because most rapists don't stop raping and I don't trust you around any female of any age. And, of course, Charlie was the head villain of this story, but you were his henchman, and in the end the villains always get what's coming to them."

She dropped in front of him again. "I'll also admit that I'm going to kill you because, even though I now have everything I could ever want, I'm not big enough to just forgive what you did to me. So there's that, too. I considered ripping off your dick and balls and letting you live like that, forever disfigured, but then I decided that just wasn't a neat enough ending. We've all seen _The Princess Bride_. We all know that Humperdinck goes after them the minute his guards untie him. Not that I think you'd ever find me, and I'm _definitely_ not afraid of you anymore, but..." She shrugged, then smiled at him, a smile that said so much, if he could only understand it. "Goodbye, Frank."

* * *

Late that night, Bella sat next to Edward in her old bed in the beautiful, modern house just outside Forks, Washington that had been her first real, true home. The utilities had been turned off when they moved and some of the sentimental pieces of furniture packed up and shipped to Britain, but a lot of items still remained. With her perfect vampire vision and impervious vampire body she needed neither light nor heat, and she enjoyed experiencing this home the way her family had experienced it when she was still human.

Returning to this place felt...bittersweet. She curled into the arms of her husband, watching the large diamond solitaire on her ring glimmer in what little light bled through the windows. This house had been both her sanctuary and her prison for long months while she remained a scared little human, terrified that Charlie would get to her despite the protection of her loving vampire family. Ellison had been born here. There were good memories as well as bad.

But Forks, too, had changed, even in just a year or so. Billy Black had died of diabetes complications, his ashes scattered at the fishing hole where Charlie's death was staged. A small plaque now stood there, hidden by bracken fern, with both names on it. Bella had stared at the inscription for several minutes with no emotion—no anger, no grief, just nothing. That part of her life was over, and she was done with it. Her body could shed no tears, but she didn't need to cry anyway. Charlie was gone, and the town and reservation could remember him any way they chose. Their opinions couldn't hurt her. Not anymore.

Jacob hadn't bothered graduating. She had sent him a letter before they left, telling him that her family was making a fresh start somewhere else and asking him not to follow. He'd obeyed, more or less, but left the reservation soon after. She heard through the supernatural grapevine that he had devoted himself to killing vampires, stalking and hunting those that chose to prey on humans. By staying near his loathed enemies, he would remain young as he waited for Ellison to grow up.

 _Over my undead body_ , Edward had growled when he heard. Bella couldn't dredge up the same sort of anger. When she came of age, Ellison would make her own choices. If that choice was Jacob Black, Bella would not interfere. But she also would never push her daughter toward the man who had once been her only friend. Secretly, she doubted Jake would ever win Ellie's heart. She was just so much...so much _more_ than he ever had been, ever would be.

And, regardless, Jake was going to have to wait a long, long time.

Carlisle's suspicion about Ellie's growth had so far been borne out. She was a year old in age, but still essentially a newborn in development. Their vampire family could detect subtle changes that proved she would not remain a child forever—something absolutely not permitted by the Volturi—but she was growing incredibly slowly.

Nobody minded. The longer she took to mature, the more they got to savor each stage of her development. There was no rush. They had eternity.

The buzz of Bella's phone on the nightstand made her jerk, and she grabbed for it with more grace than she ever had as a human. "Hello, Alice," she said without even glancing at the caller ID.

"Bella? Not that I'm complaining or anything, but are you guys going to be back soon? Shit, I _hate_ not being able to see your future! I swear I'm not complaining, but Ellie kind of is. She wants her mommy and daddy back, and no one else will do, not even Carlisle."

The cranky cries in the background proved Alice's words were quite true. They pulled at Bella's heart—she ached to be back with her baby, too. But this trip had been necessary. It was time to clear away loose ends and put the past to rest.

"Take me to her." She rolled in the big bed until she faced Edward, the phone held between them. His arm curled around her waist, pulling her close. "Ellie, baby girl, it's okay. You're fine. I'm right here," her lilting voice called soothingly to her baby. Immediately the cries paused.

"Daddy's here, too, lovebug," Edward said. "We'll be back with you tomorrow, I promise, princess. You need to behave for Aunt Alice until then, and Daddy will bring you something pretty."

Bella rolled her eyes. Ellie had no idea what presents were, or what to do with anything that wasn't a nipple filled with either milk or blood, but everyone in the family spoiled her with gifts anyway. Together, she and Mason had more stuffed animals, baby toys, books, and clothes than a good-sized suburban neighborhood. Because giving gifts gave her family joy, Bella didn't say anything to them about it. But really, it was a tad ridiculous.

Rosalie's harried voice called over the phone, "Tell her to vomit on someone else next time, too!"

Instantly Bella sat up. "Is she sick? Does she have a fever? Should we try to get a flight before tomorrow morning? What if—"

"She's _fine_ ," Alice soothed. "Just fine. She just got the hiccups and spit up a bunch, that's all."

The family had discovered after Mason's arrival that Rosalie, oddly enough, was completely fine with dirty diapers but could not stand vomit. Emmett handled the upchuck, as he called it. Bella didn't really mind either task—not that she'd honestly changed many of Ellie's diapers. When she was human Edward's nose always smelled them before hers did, and he was very much a hands-on daddy. He was ecstatic about helping with feeding when Bella decided, four months ago, that she was ready to be changed. Ellie was growing so slowly that Bella was afraid she'd be middle-aged before her daughter stopped nursing, and that just wasn't on her agenda. So she'd made the choice she always intended to, and asked Edward to bite her.

Ellie was inconsolable for the three days she spent without her mother—only the soothing sound of Edward's piano managed to lull her to sleep. She fought the change to baby formula and animal blood tooth and nail, capitulating only when she was too hungry to fight any more. Edward hunted the wildest creatures he could find for her, bringing back blood from far away animals, sometimes, since the wildest game in England was deer and boar. She liked fox best of all the British animals, and turned her nose up at anything at all from the sea. Edward brought her a narwhal tusk and mounted it on the wall of her fairy-princess themed nursery as a "unicorn" horn, though she refused to drink the narwhal's blood.

"Did she throw up on you, Rose?" Bella asked, nose scrunched up as she commiserated with her sister. "I'm so sorry."

"No, but she vomited all over Mason. In his _hair_ even. She's like a quarter his size, so how she managed to do it I don't know. But it was vile, Bella. _Vile_. Alice fed her a little formula and a little blood and when it came back up it was like Pepto-Bismol pink, and...ugh. I can't even talk about it, I'm getting grossed out again."

Bella stifled a laugh, knowing Rose was dead serious. "We'll be back before you know it," she promised her sisters...and her daughter. Being away from Ellie hurt something inside her, and there was no way she could do it for long. Even just after her change, when Edward worried that her vampire instincts would overpower her, she couldn't keep away from her little girl. Her insistence that she was fine had been borne out, too—not once had she felt even the tiniest desire to bite her baby. Full humans caused more of a problem, but Bella's natural control over herself as a human had intensified when she became a vampire. Though the vampire thirst sang in her bloodless veins, she was able to repress it with far more ease than a typical newborn.

Her husband was extremely proud of her.

Now, hearing Ellie's whiny, tired cries start up again, Edward rolled Bella out of bed, scooping up both her and the phone, and an instant later they were in the silent living room. He settled her on the piano bench, then whipped the dustcloth off the instrument.

The piano hadn't been tuned lately—Edward had a full grand at Ellison House and no need for this smaller one—but Ellie didn't care. The minute her lullaby began, the cranky cries over the phone ceased. Alice gave a soft little hum of pleasure, and Bella rested her head against her husband's shoulder. So much had changed since the first time she saw him walking the halls of Forks High School, and not just her. Despite his earlier assertion that vampires were frozen and immutable, Edward himself had changed quite a bit. He'd learned how to love and trust just as much as she had. The give and take of their relationship was not instantaneous, but Bella felt that what they'd achieved was all the more precious for the work and pain that went into it. Through heartache and sorrow, anger and fear, they'd struggled to reach this moment. Now everything else melted away, until it was just the two of them, together, and the music.


	50. Chapter 50

My name is Mason Ryan Cullen and I am eight years old.

Granddad got me a journal for my birthday yesterday, almost just like the ones in the library, except mine has lines so I can write neat. Dad is helping me with the hard words.

I live in a big house in Lancashire, England, and I have the best family in the world. At the house there is Granddad Carlisle and Gran Esme, me and my mum and dad, Aunt Alice and Uncle Jasper, Uncle Edward and Aunt Bella, and baby Ellie. Even with all of us the house is awfully big, and there's always room to play. I bring my friends home with me and we run around and play hide-and-seek and Aunt Alice lets us use the art room and we slide down the bannisters and make lots of noise and no one ever tells us to be quiet, only not to hurt ourselves.

My mum is the prettiest lady in the world. When I was little I wanted to marry her but dad always said I couldn't because he got there first. Now I do not want to marry her but some of my friends get all googly-eyed when they see her. I punched Declan in the chin once for staring at her too much. She's my mum after all and I have to protect her.

Dad is asking who is the second prettiest lady in the world. He wants to know if it is Declan's mum, so I can stare at her and then Declan will know how it feels. But Declan's mum is not pretty at all. She has saggy eyes and frizzy hair and she wears big ugly shoes. Second prettiest would be either Gran or Aunt Bella, I don't know. They are both so soft and sweet, and they make me the best cookies. I thought Aunt Bella was Gran's little girl until Uncle Edward told me he was Granddad's son and he married Bella. It doesn't make sense to me because Gran and Aunt Bella are not like twins but they are still the same. Uncle Edward and Aunt Bella are Ellie's dad and mum, and Ellie is my cousin.

Except it gets confusing, because I know my mum is not my biological mum (Dad helped with that word). Bella is. So Ellie is sort of my sister, but also sort of my cousin. I asked lots of questions last year about why I am different from my family. I have blue eyes and I eat food and I am a wimp next to my dad. Dad and Mum and Bella and Edward sat down with me and told me that when I was born, Bella was my mummy. But she was not a grownup yet, and she was not married to Uncle Edward, and she was scared and couldn't take care of me, so she gave me to my mum and dad. Aunt Bella held my hand and told me she _promised_ she wanted the best for me, and the best was my mum. I think that's pretty cool because now I have a big family with lots of people who love me. And my dad's way better than Uncle Edward anyway. When I asked about my first dad, they said he was a bad man but not to be afraid because he is never coming back. Also that I am not like him, and I am not like Bella. I am like me, Mason Cullen, and no one else.

We have secrets in my family that I am not allowed to tell but Dad says I can write them here in my journal just like Granddad writes. I am a normal kid but everyone else is super strong and fast. They don't never ever sleep and they can't be in the sunshine. They leave the house to eat wild animals, not people food. Declan showed me a movie about vampires and I asked my dad if they were vampires and he said yes, but not like in the movies, and I had to keep it an extra-secret secret. I can do that. I'm old now.

Ellie is even weirder. Declan's baby brother grows fast but Ellie grows slow. She is six years old but really she is still a baby. She only has one tiny little tooth, but Mum says to be careful and never let her bite me because she could hurt me. She got her scary Mum look, so I listen. I asked if Ellie was a vampire too, but Aunt Bella said she didn't really know. Just that Ellie was special and was growing in her own time. She's a pretty baby, I guess. Prettier than Declan's brother, anyway. She's got red hair and it sticks up everywhere like Uncle Edward's. Sometimes he fights with Aunt Bella about who gets to hold her and it's pretty funny because Ellie likes both of them but she loves when Uncle Edward plays the piano and I think maybe she knows that word, because she claps when he asks her if she wants him to play.

Mum says eventually we will have to leave our big house and go somewhere else because I am the only one that gets older and people will start to notice. But Granddad says he hopes it won't be for a long time, and he got makeup and started painting wrinkles on him and Gran when they have to go out to the village. They look awfully funny like that, but I know most granddads and grans are old. Granddad is older than them all, he just doesn't look it.

I asked Aunt Alice one day why she and Uncle Jasper didn't have a kid. She said it was much more fun to play with me and leave the worrying to my mum. I guess she's right because Mum worries _a lot_. Sometimes it feels like I wouldn't have any fun if it weren't for my dad. He's lots of fun and he gets in trouble with Mum, just like me.

My family is the best. I only wish I could have a pet, but Mum says no because animals are afraid of vampires and it would not be nice to bring home a pet that was scared all the time.

For my birthday I had a monster truck cake and a sleepover and we watched monster trucks on the big TV until we fell asleep in the middle of the night. Declan ate so many sweets he threw up and my mum said she told him so. I didn't throw up. None of my friends had seen monster trucks before but they love them now. My dad showed them to me first and we watch them together and my mum says it's a waste of cars but she doesn't stop us. It was the best birthday. I have the best friends and family ever.

* * *

To Renee Dwyer,

My name is Esme Cullen. I don't know that you remember me, but my husband and I received custody of your daughter, Isabella, when you signed away your parental rights.

There's a great deal I don't know about you. I don't know whether you'll ever get this—I've sent it to your last known address, but you and I both know that's no guarantee. I don't know whether you're still living out of an RV or have now settled down somewhere. I don't know whether you think about Bella at all, or wish you maybe had done things differently. All I know is that you're no longer married, or at least not to the husband you had when we met. Part of me wants to express condolences on the breakup of your relationship but another part of me doesn't like to say things I don't mean, and I just can't find it in me to forgive you entirely for your treatment of Bella.

I know you don't agree, and probably never will, but the way you reared your daughter hurt her deeply and while giving her up was probably the best thing you could have done for her, that also hurt. She loved you, Renee. I believe part of her still does, and always will. You were her mother. You were part of her life when she was young, and while you never nurtured her, that still means something.

So while there's so much I don't know about you, there are a few things I need to say. First and foremost, your daughter is beautiful. Inside and out. I still can't wrap my head around your choice to give her up, but your loss was my gain. Bella has brought so much light and love into my family, and I couldn't love her more if I'd borne her myself. She's a treasure, and in case you were wondering, we treat her as such. She's given the love and respect that she deserved from birth.

She's grown into a lovely young woman, Renee. So intelligent, and so giving of herself to others. She cares so much. She graduated from college with a degree in psychology, and has written two well-received books—under a pseudonym, of course. She plans to attend graduate school eventually but is taking time right now to enjoy her family. Yes—my husband and I have been blessed with the most beautiful little granddaughter you could ever imagine. Bella has asked me not to enclose a photo so I won't, but I just wish I could convey to you the depth of what you've missed out on. I understand that it probably doesn't matter to you, but I honestly can't comprehend such a thing. I suppose we're just such different people, you and I. To me, family is everything. I don't know what you place importance on, but it was never Bella, was it?

Still, I didn't write to you because I wanted to pick a fight. I don't expect to hear back from you, and that's all right. I just thought that, as a mother, you might be curious about what happened to your daughter. _My_ daughter. And I wanted you to know that she's okay, Renee. She's more than fine. She's thriving. So you can rest easy knowing that she is loved and looked after, though she's also perfectly capable of standing on her own. That's the thing about family—it doesn't make you weaker. It makes you stronger.

So be at peace, if you ever worried. Bella's strong now. She's whole.

Sincerely,

Esme Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I want to send huge thanks to hev99, my UK Consultant, and all my readers. This was my very first Twilight fic, and it's been a labor of love from beginning to end. I just can't even express to you what finishing this means to me.
> 
> I won't be writing any futuretakes as far as I know, but I might be open to an outtake or two if someone comes up with one that sounds really good. Other than that, this story is complete. I will be going through my Word document and doing some minor editing, then making a .pdf available.
> 
> Thank you for sharing the journeys of both ACAP Bella and Wisp with me. I am truly honored by your reviews and encouragement.
> 
> Brightest blessings,  
> Cris


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